Crossing The Skies
by birdywings
Summary: Eleanor; The girl with the flame inside. Park; The boy with the tunes echoing off the walls of his head. Cath; The girl with the magic up her sleeve. Levi; The boy with his many smiles. Four people. One story to tell.
1. Chapter 1: Let Go

1

Let Go

* * *

With a trembling hand, Cath's finger hovered over the computer mouse.  
She took a deep breath, which only sent tremors through her body. She clenched and un-clenched her hands several times before placing her finger over the mouse once more.  
Her blue eyes stung with tears after focusing on the 'Complete' button displayed on the laptop screen for the past few hours.  
She couldn't bring herself to peel her gaze away. Not even as her finger slowly inched its way down to the button, each descent counting down the final seconds of Cath's life's work over the past two and a half years.

She could do this.  
No problem at all.  
She could carry on.  
She could let it go.  
Let it all go.  
She could do this.

Cath immediately drew her hand back and began to rub her sweaty palms along her jeans when she applied even the slightest of pressure to the button on the mouse.  
It had been a few weeks since the conclusion of the spring semester.  
A few weeks since Cath officially became a sophomore.  
A few weeks since Simon Snow And The Eighth Dance was released in bookstores all across the world.  
A few weeks since Cath's lifelong passion came to its end.  
A few weeks since Cath had finally typed up her final chapter to Carry On Simon.  
A few weeks since Cath had first laid a hand on the mouse to allow Simon Snow to carry on for good.

But she couldn't do it.  
Cath couldn't just let the one part of her life that seemed to make sense end with one last word and just the simple click of a button.  
Simon deserved so much more than that.  
But Cath had already decided his fate, along with everyone else within the world of Mages.  
Cath wanted to be proud of herself. She gave Simon and Baz the ending Gemma T. Leslie never could, (with a little input from Wren of course).  
This final chapter was her masterpiece!  
But it also meant the end of Simon.

Was Cath ready to let go?  
Was she ready to accept the end?  
Was she capable of carrying on?

Maybe she was.  
Maybe she wasn't.  
But the time was now.  
And whether or not Cath was done procrastinating and holding onto the past, it was time.  
She had kept her fans waiting long enough.  
She had withheld the final words of Simon Snow for too long now.  
It was time.

Cath blew a strand of her long brown hair from her face and pulled it back into a bun before scooting forward until she sat on the edge of her desk chair.  
She tentatively lay a wavering hand on the mouse and treated the device with caution, as if it might explode any second. Or maybe Cath would before it even got the chance.  
Her eyes fell closed as she took in a deep breath.

_Okay Simon, _She thought._ Five more seconds of the past.  
_

_Five._

Her grip tightened slightly on the mouse.

_Four._

She slid the it against the desk until the little and displayed on the screen came to rest on the 'Complete' button.

_Three.  
_

Her finger rested on the button, slowly applying pressure with Cath's every breath.

_Two._

She took one last breath and didn't release it.  
She didn't think she would ever be able to catch any air again.

_One._

Her eyes flicked open and before her sitting on her desk was her laptop displaying her completed story on the bright screen but all she could see though her brown orbs were Simon Snow's fingers entwined with Tyrannus Basilton Pitch's


	2. Chapter 2: Carry On

**Hey everyone!**

**So, I love Rainbow Rowell. I love Fangirl. And I am IN love with Eleanor & Park.****  
****I think enough has been said but, if you need further explanation, please enjoy this little piece of inspiration that I was hit with to write a crossover between the two wonderful novels written by the glorious author herself:)**

**Reviews and feedback are always appreciated and it really means a lot to me to hear from you all:)****  
****More to come!**

**-birdywings**

* * *

2

Carry On

* * *

A tremor ran through her body.  
It began from the very pit of her heart and extended to her stomach, giving her this sinking feeling of dread before finally reaching the tips of her fingers and toes.  
Her hands were shaking. Her breaths rapid and quivering on both the inhale and exhale.  
She was a bundle of molecules crawling all up and down her skin with nerves.  
She was out of control.

She lay her hands on the dashboard of her father's car in attempts to disguise the tremble vibrating through her veins, but it only served to emphasize her wavering as it seemed to seep from her skin and into the smooth surface of the control panel.  
Her dark eyes look past her faint reflection in the window as they skim along the concrete below before coming to rest on the one-story concrete building waiting only a thin line of glass away. Its grey walls and clear windows gaze down upon her, making her feel as small and as invisible as she wishes to be. The array of black bold letters bore through her as they assemble the words; 'Barnes & Noble.'

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in another world.  
A world without concrete walls to cage her in.  
A world without glass to suffocate her.  
A world where she may breathe freely and spread her wings without the fear of trying.  
A world with the Watford School of Magiks and the band of Mages.  
A world with vampires and magicians.  
A world with magic hares to nab and the Insidious Humdrum to defeat.  
A world with Simon and Baz.

Cath Avery sighed as she pressed her forehead to the passenger window, the glass cool beneath her skin.  
_Oh Simon, what have I gotten myself into?_

She felt a brawny hand rest on her shoulder, the muscles tense in the arm. "Don't sweat it Cath," Her father spoke to her, trying to reassure her. Although even he sounded more nervous than she as he tried to hide the waver in his voice, revealing to Cath the nerves he too was experiencing. "You'll do great."

Cath turned to her father and lost herself to his sad grey eyes that held years of life experience, both good and bad.  
Mostly bad though.  
Her features twisted into her attempt at a small smile but the expression came out as more of a grimace. Although, given her current state, the grimace was more appropriate.

She leaned over and planted a kiss on her father's cheek, getting more stubble prickling at her lips rather than smooth skin. "See you later." She told him, her voice small and barely above a whisper.

He smiled at her and gave her shoulder one last pat as she climbed out of the car with her heart leaping in her chest and up her throat, causing her to choke on her goodbye and so she was left with only a simple wave at her disposal. However, Cath Avery has leaned that over the years, sometimes, even the smallest of gestures can have more of an impact on people and the world rather than the words that pass through our lips.

"And Cath?" Her feet shifted against the cool pavement, turning her to glance back at her father. "Don't forget to smile." He said, his own grin growing a little at the edges.

She offered him the expression in return, the crease in her lips a little more full than her previous attempt as he sped away, the engine spewing a cloud of exhaust from the rear as the rubber of the tires screeched against the road, leaving marks in its wake.

With a heavy sigh, she swiveled to once again face the concrete walls, glass windows and bold letters.  
She ran her fingers through her hair, verifying that her bun of thick brown hair was secure and would remain that way. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, frowning down at the plain turquoise it was colored.  
Cath wished she had on one of her many Simon Snow shirts that she bought from book sales or author signings, but her sister Wren had other ideas.

_"You can't wear that on your first day Cath, you have to look professional!" She had told her as she snatched the T-shirt bloody with red and colored with Simon's picture from the cover of the Mage's Heir._

_"There! plain and simple." Wren had spoken as she marveled at her work on her sister._

_"And boring." Cath had muttered under her breath._

_"Nonsense!" Wren scoffed. "You look great! Now all we have to do is work on that smile and BOOM! You, Cath Avery, have landed yourself a permanent job at Barnes & Noble."_

Thinking about that shirt now, Cath yearned to have it on now with Simon's picture plastered to her chest, the red familiar to her eyes as she wore him close to her heart where she felt him most. Right in the very center of her being where all the life that flows through her originates from.

_Okay Cath, _She thought, shaking her head vigorously. _If Simon Snow can carry on, so can you._

And without another thought of protest to herself, Cath walked briskly with a rigid body to the glass doors that will cage her in like a bird that will never be granted the opportunity to spread its wings and soar on the winds of the world.

She stumbled on the way in, tripping over her feet before halting in the doorway.  
She felt her mouth fall open, her chin tickling at her neck as she stood there, eyes wide and glassy in awe as they skimmed the many shelves displayed throughout the large, spacious room, each one caressing row after row of precious books and reading material.  
Cath could only imagine the glorious feeling of holding so many novels, each carrying their own entire world within them. A world free from reality. An escape. A _veil.__  
_Every word was like another sheet that Cath wore, wrapping herself in the invisible fabric to disappear from unwanted eyes.

Her eyes fell shut as she listened for the sweet sound of pages being turned, the sound like music to her ears as it filled Cath in her very soul. It was her fuel. Her song.  
She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of books-each with their own kind, ranging from paint to antique stores, and even spaghetti-combined with the aroma of coffee wafting through the air from the Starbucks booth sitting in the corner with a line of customers looping all the way around the maze of shelves.

She sighed. Seeing the familiar hot beverage and logo called the image of Levi to her mind.  
_Levi._  
With a heavy heart, she studied his every feature in her memory of him lingering beneath the dark shadows of her eyelids.  
His long neck, his crown of blonde, wavy hair, and his perfectly straight white teeth revealed to her in the perfectly dazzling smile that Levi has made his own.  
Levi. Levi and his smiles. Levi and Cath.  
Levi gone.

She had told him that she would visit him at his family's ranch nestled in Arnold this summer when they said their goodbyes on the last day of the spring semester. But as mentioned before; Sometimes, gestures have more of an impact on life than our words ever will.  
Visiting Levi and meeting his family was just another task in life that Cath just wasn't prepared to accomplish quite yet, and so she would procrastinate upon it for as long as she could. That is, until Levi asked her again, and once more, she would give him the same answer she had given him the day she arrived home in Omaha; "I'd love to, but I'm pretty booked for the summer at the moment. I'll try to make it as soon as I can."

Cath would cringe at her words. At her lies.  
But of course, Levi could see right through them. Although he did not say so, but Cath could just feel it. Like a sixth sense.  
He could read her like a book.

It had been two weeks since Cath and Wren arrived home. The clock was ticking by, and Cath was dreading the conclusion of her limited days.  
She wanted to see Levi. She wanted to visit him and tie herself up in his arms. But they were from different worlds.  
At college, they could be who they desired-the kind of people who could fall for each other over and over again without the force of reality and parents to drive them apart. But at home, they were who they were, and they were the people who would have nothing to say to each other if not for Levi's magnificent gingerbread-latte-making skills, and Cath's unbridgeable reading and writing talents.

Besides, Levi's mother would not approve of Cath. Deep down, she knows that. She knows of it like she knows the sky is blue and vast.  
Out there is foreign and frightening, but Levi. Levi is familiar and soothing.  
They fit together like the pieces to a puzzle.  
His arm around her hips, drawing her into him from the waist. Her fingers tracing his jawline, memorizing every muscle of him. Their lips locked, pressing against each other until they can't get any closer no matter how much they try to.

Her shoulders sagged, her body slumping where she stood.  
Levi and his a thousand smiles could wait.  
At least until Cath could stop shaking.

"Hello!" A bright and cheery voice spoke, startling Cath as the shrill sound drew her from her thoughts. "Can I help you?"

Cath's eyes flicked open to find a young man-not that much older than her-with short dark hair curling over at the top of his head and creamy dark skin. He outstretched his hand to her, his smile dazzling and bright but not quite Leviean as his dark eyes shined at her, the light flickering above them giving off an ember glow to them

"I'm Jonas." He paused, the corners of his mouth turned up even as his eyebrows drew into his forehead, and it wasn't until several minutes had passed that Cath realized he was waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Oh, um, Cath." She stuttered as she shook his hand twice.

"Oh! You're the new addition to the staff!" He exclaimed. "Why didn't you say something?" He released her hand and led her by the shoulders through a grey door labeled, 'Staff Room'.

And before Cath Avery knew it, she was dragged into another world. A world of grey and glass. Of stone and bold letters.  
It was another world, just as she had asked for.  
But it was none she wanted to enter.

* * *

**P.S. Forgive me if I got any details wrong with Cath's, Levi's or her father's appearance. I have only read Fangirl once and it has admittedly been awhile. I plan on rereading both Fangirl and Eleanor & Park as soon as I can to refresh my memory of both these beautiful works of art. But please, if I have made an error on the character of this book, do not hesitate to tell me and I will fix it to the best of my ability:)**


	3. Chapter 3: All That Remains

3

All That Remains

A smile tugged at Cath's lips as her ears listened for the confetti of bubbles popping in the pain, the oil hot with the heat the element provides beneath it. The sound reminded her of kernels bursting into fluffy, light pieces of popcorn heating in the microwave. Almost like a million tap dancers stamping through her kitchen until the machine beeps, announcing the end of the dance.  
Cath laughed in spite of herself as she lost herself to the sizzling of egg against the oil boiling with the heat and the greasy aroma of food frying against aluminum. The sweet smell wafted through the air and filled her lungs as she breathed it in, drinking in the scent.

It wasn't quite her desktop with her back resting comfortably against the cushion of her desk chair and her fingers jabbing at the familiar keyboard that was grey with age as her eyes trained on the bright screen, watching as row after row of words were formed by a combination of letters that held not only a story, but a whole other world within them as her entire body relaxed into the routine. But it sufficed.  
It would have to.  
For now.

Cath glanced up from her task as she heard the clicking of heels against the linoleum floor enter the room, and she found that attached to those heels, was her sister Wren.  
She flashed Cath a smile of gleaming white teeth as she hopped upon the counter and kicked her hot pink pumps off in the process, revealing to Cath the glossy pink coating her toenails.

"So how'd it go?" Wren asked, nudging Cath's shoulder with her own.

Cath felt her shoulders lift, then drop after a second.

"Come on Cath!" Wren pressed, digging her shoulder into Cath's now. "Give me some details, or at least more than one word."

She shrugged again, her eyes flicking up at her sister briefly as she answered with, "It was fine."

Wren frowned at her, deepening the crease in between her eyebrows.

"That was three." Cath spoke, a smirk unraveling in her features.

Wren scoffed, trying to hide the grin fighting its way onto her face. "Fine, be that way." She shoved lightly at Cath as she brushed by her to reach into the cabinet for some plates.

Cath's hands were quick and efficient as she tossed several ingredients into the pan, decorating the omelette in progress green with onions and pink with minced slices of ham.  
The dish was so familiar to the muscles beneath her skin that her body had learned to whip it up with a mind of its own.

"Seriously though, what happened?" Wren asked as she arranged the plates and cutlery upon the counter. "Did you get fired? Because I swear, if they fired you after only one day I'm gonna-"

"I didn't get fired Wren." Cath replied, her tone colored with exasperation.

Having a sibling was hard.  
Having a sister was even harder.  
Especially if their mouth possessed a mind of its own and never ran out of things to say.

"It was just fine, nothing special. I mean, it's a job. They're not supposed to be exciting." She said as she flipped the omelette onto a plate with a spatula in hand before returning to the stove and whipping up another.

"I strongly disagree. Everyone should have a job that they enjoy, otherwise, what is the point? I mean, you're going to be stuck doing it for the rest of your life, so you may as well choose something you love." Wren said, waving her sister's words off as she snatched a fork and dug into her meal, the fluffy egg warming her stomach on the way down and leaving behind the stench of onion on her breath, leaving Cath to get a whiff of it as she spoke. "Besides, we all need a little excitement in our lives don't we?"

Cath, at a loss for words, only offered her sister a shrug before returning her attention to the omelette crying out to her as it sizzled in the pan. She watched the bubbles pop one by one as the shade of the egg slowly melted into a golden yellow, whereupon she plucked the spatula from its position on the counter and tossed the omelette onto a plate, the colorof it like the sun in the early hours of the morning.

"So," Wren spoke through a mouthful of food as Cath leaned back against the counter opposite her, inching her fork through the egg. "Jandro and I are going dancing tomorrow night, you should come."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Dancing isn't really my thing."

Wren placed a hand on her chest and gasped in mock surprise, "Really? But Cath, I never took you as the shut-in and antisocial type!"

Cath scoffed indignantely as she elbowed her sister who dodged the advance easily, her short brown hair, which was only a shade darker than Cath's, fell over her eyes.

"I am not antisocial. I do have some friends thank you very much."

"Virtual friends don't count."

"I have Reagen..."

"Hmm, I don't think it can be classified as friends, so much as that she puts up with you." Wren said, her voice teasing.

She took Cath's empty plate from her hands and skipped across the kitchen where she dumped the dishes in the sink and turned on the tap. The running water filled the room as she began to wash the dishes, her eyes skimming the edge of the sink for the sponge.

"Seriously though," She called to Cath over her shoulder. "You should come."

Cath's lips pinched into a thin, pink line. "I'll think about it. Although to be honest, a date with Simon Snow is sounding more interesting than a night of watching you and Jandro glisten with sweat as you break down on the dance floor."

"Well, excuse me, but if dancing isn't your thing than what do you call emergency dance parties?" Wren retorted over the running faucet andclattering of dishes.

"An emergency." Was all Cath could answer with.

"Hey, speaking of Simon, you feel up to a marathon? I had like six cups of coffee earlier and I'm gonna be up all night." Wren asked after a moment.

"Six?"

"Hey, no judging. Let me tell you, it isn't easy to keep your eyes open all day when you're stuck behind a desk knee-deep in paperwork and caged in by glass as you deal with customers, acting as a receptionist while providing 'Service with a smile'. She spoke the last sentence with an obvious hint of annoyance.

"Whatever happened to choosing an occupation you love?" Cath muttered just loud enough for her sister to hear and whirl around with water dripping from her hands as soap bubbles flew everywhere, some even getting caught in Cath's hair. The twins giggled and squealed with laughter as they flung clouds of soap at each other.

Yes, having a sister is hard. Hell, having a family is hard.  
But sometimes, in those rare moments, when laughter bubbles within you both as you share a laugh over something that would seem absolutely ludicrous to the naked eye or as you chase each other with soap-covered hands dripping with water, it makes it all worthwhile.  
The good, the bad, and everything in between.  
It is all worth every moment.

* * *

The phone rang, its seven-note tune playing throughout the house, causing the two sisters to halt in their tracks, their hands freezing in mid-air as they stared at the phone, listening to its ringtone play relentlessly before the caller ID appeared on the screen, displaying Levi's name.

Cath's palms ran cold as Wren swivels to face her, her dark eyes holding within in them a mischievous glint as her eyebrows arced upwards.  
With a leap to cover the distance, Wren made a dive for the phone with Cath on her heels, their footsteps padding against the floor as they lunged and battled it out for the device.

"Wren! Give me that!" Cath grunted as she struggled to snatch the phone from her sister's hands.

"Hello? Why hello Levi!" Wren spoke into the phone as she shoved at Cath's face with her free hand, her smooth palm tickling Cath's nose. "Yes, this is Cath speaking."

Cath could feel the ball rising in her throat, the groan of frustration hanging on the edge of her lips and she was about to set it loose when she heard Levi speak on the other end, his voice light and colored with ease, "Nice try Wren. Can you put Cath on now?"

She smiled at his words, incapable of containing her grin as Wren huffed in disappointment, parting a few strands of her thick brown hair with her breath, "Dang, almost had you."

"Not quite." Cath could just feel Levi's smile on the other end, the sense almost as clear as the image of his mouthful of dazzling white teeth.  
The tug in his lips was just as much as hers as it was his.

A sigh passed through Wren's lips as she spoke, "Okay, fine. See you GingerSnap."

A laugh tickled the inside of Cath's throat at the nickname. Wren had bestowed it upon Levi after consuming her first Gingerbread latte whipped up by his long, narrow fingers.  
It was now his second name.

"Hey." Cath breathed into the phone when Wren handed it to her, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be as her breath tickled at her chin.

"Hello Cather," Levi's voice clear voice sang through. "Nice to hear your voice again."

Cath felt the blush tinting her cheeks a soft pink and she was suddenly very glad for the distance between them.  
Her voice had abandoned her for the moment, leaving her only to nod, the cool receiver brushing against her ear, even though Levi's blue eyes couldn't see her reply.

"So, listen-"

"Levi, let me stop you there," Cath blurted, her voice surprising her, and she climbed up the stairs and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom before either of them could speak another word.

The room was dark with the sliver of the last of the daylight leaking through the crack in her blinds hanging at the window with a musty smell hanging in the air, like wet plaster. Cath tiptoed across the room, her toes digging into the rough carpet, as if she feared making a sound to shatter the blissful silence of the room.  
She flopped onto her bed, the mattress squeaking beneath her as she sighed into the phone, wishing that she was closer to him. That there was no gap separating them, at least for the moment as her lungs craved to breathe Levi's air once more, pumping his mocha tinged breath in and out of her body.

"I know what you're going to say Levi," Her lips moved, allowing the words to spew from inside her before she could register what she was saying. "And, the truth is, I can't."

"You can't what Cather?" He asked, his voice lost and searching for hers.

"Visit you." She flinched at her words, feeling the pang of guilt stab her in the pit of her stomach.

Seconds ticked by before he said anything, and they were the longest seconds of Cath's life as she dreaded what he had to respond with. But she only heard his light laugh on the other end, the sound filling her ears, and although she wanted to relish the melody of it, she could only stare blankly at the Baz poster taped to the pale wall opposite her. His fangs bared and blood-stained, and although he stood frozen alone with purple painting the scene behind him, all she could see was Simon standing at his side, their hands full with each other's hands as their palms dominated one another's with their fingers laced.

"That wasn't what I was going to mention at all!" Levi spoke, his voice still crawling with laughter.  
Cath could tell he was relieved, and it was only then that it dawned on her that he probably got the impression she wanted to break up with him, and her teeth dug into her lip with remorse for her poor choice of words.

Levi may not realize it, but Cath does.  
She knows that if either of them were to terminate their relationship, Cath would not be the one to end things.  
It wasn't that she wasn't brave enough to let go.  
She didn't _want_ to let go.

"I mean yes, I was going to bring up the whole idea of visiting us at the ranch," He said, burning through his words.  
Cath felt a smile in her lips. It was nice to hear his voice to.

She had forgotten how much she missed it.  
How could she possibly forget? Hearing it now, it was as if listening to your favorite song, its lyrics whispering the story it held hidden in the notes to you. It made her feel warm inside, like warm honey was oozing down her throat and trickling into her stomach with the beat pulsing through her veins.  
It made her feel alive.

"But I was going to say that you don't have to come if you don't want to."

Her smile faltered. "What? Do you not want me to?" She asked, working hard to keep her voice from wavering.

"No, no, no. Of course I want you here Cath," She heaved a long sigh of relief, feeling her shoulders fall with her breath. "I just thought that if it really makes you uncomfortable, meeting my family and all, then it can wait."

Tentatively, she asked, "How long?"

"As long as you need."  
She could feel his smile as her mind wondered which on he wore.  
He had a million of them.

She nodded against the phone, the movement tilting her glasses, which angled her view of the world.  
"Okay," She whispered. "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course, I'll hitchike to your house to see you if I have to."  
She laughed.  
Levi, always putting a smile on her face.

"Seriously, I'll pack my possessions up in one of those little cloths and attach it to a staff. I would cross the skies for you Cath."

She felt the honey spill into her heart, warming her from the center as she yearned to say it back. But her voice wouldn't cooperate, and so she only nodded, leaving them in a moment of silence, his breath against her ear as she listened to his lungs rise and fall. She focused on the rhythm until her breaths fell into sync with his, their lungs filling and draining with one another.  
Cath smiled, enjoying the quiet.  
Words are silver, but silence is golden.

"Okay, I have to go." She whispered into the mouthpiece, her voice speaking before she could think better of it.

"Okay, I'll see you, and Cather?"

She paused, awaiting his words.  
His song.

"I love you."

In those three words, the honey pooled in her heart erupted into a flame, igniting her from the inside while her features melted into a smile.  
"And I you."

* * *

The stairs creaked beneath her as Cath made her way downstairs, the song of her conversation with Levi still playing through her head.

"Hey, still up?" She asked Wren who sat buried under a soft, fluffy brown blanket with the television remote sitting in her palm, those pink pumps abandoned for a pair of black slippers with the symbol of Batman embroidered over the toes.

"Heck yeah, are we doing this marathon or what?" She answered, her face lit and her eyes glowing with the light from the TV.

Cath smiled and skipped down the stairs to join her sister.

The good, the bad, and everything in between.  
Moments like these are what make it all worthwhile.

Maybe there was no more Watford or band of Mages anymore.  
Maybe the world of Simon and Baz had come to its end at last.  
Or maybe she could still hold on.  
But for now, this was all that remained for Cath Avery.


	4. Chapter 4: Within The Lyrics

**Thanks for the reviews everyone!**

**Sorry this update took awhile, but I was away over the weekend.****  
****And unfortunately I won't be updating again for about a month as I will be away in Europe from August 24th to September 12th where I will sadly not have any access to the internet, or at least no time for any writing. But dear readers, I will be back, I promise!:) I am really excited to write this story as I have a a lot planned that I really want to get right as I love these characters dearly. Especially Eleanor and Park as that is my favorite novel of all time and their relationship is just so realistic and perfect yet imperfect it's just such a beautiful novel:,)**

**Anyway, let me know your thoughts if you can, I love the feedback guys:)****  
****Oh and just so you're all aware, if I am correct, Eleanor and Park would be 44 years old in this story so that is the age I will make them:) Levi and Cath are still the ages they are in Fangirl:)**

**Till September!:)**

**-birdywings**

* * *

4

Within The Lyrics

* * *

Park's nostrils flared when stung with the scent of mocha that entered the space the moment the bell hanging by the entrance chimed, making the air thick with its aroma.  
His green eyes glanced up from the array of comics neatly arranged in a box that he was leafing through-the most recent delivery of new inventory-to narrow in on the tall, long and lanky figure stepping foot in the door. He was so tall that his head of blond just barely slipped under the door frame, leaving a few blond strands to skim the entryway.  
Park couldn't help the roll in his orbs as the green disappeared in his head for only a moment before returning to his task at hand, and he rifled through the collection, his eyes skimming over title after title as his ears listened to the creaking of floorboards under the gait of his newest customer.

His gaze would flick up every now and then to watch as the guy weaved in and out of aisle after aisle lined with shelves displaying everything from Batman to the X-Men, and then, when he had scanned through that section of the shop, he moved onto shuffling down the aisles lined with shelves caressing plastic CD cases, containing everything from AC/DC to Queen.  
The only music those shelves didn't contain were the tunes she loved.  
The ones they listened to together.  
The one they shared like secrets.  
The ones they trusted each other with.  
The ones she bestowed upon him like a gift.

He could never sell those songs.  
It would be like playing their playlist for the entire world to listen to.  
Like publishing the story they wrote in print for everyone to read.  
Like divulging the secret of their love that they unspokenly promised to remain concealed within its plastic case.

He held her like a secret in his heart.  
A tune on constant replay within the walls of his mind.  
A heartbeat pulsing through his palm and coursing through his veins.

She was everywhere, yet nowhere, and even still, somewhere.  
And so, he'd stop trying to bring her back.  
She only came back when she felt like it, in dreams and lies and broken-down deja vu.  
Like, he'd be driving to work, and he'd see a girl with red hair standing on the corner-and he'd swear, for half a chocking moment, that it was her.  
Then he'd see that the girl's hair was more blond than red.  
And that she was holding a cigarette... And wearing a Sex Pistols T-shirt.  
Eleanor hated the Sex Pistols.  
Eleanor...

Standing behind him until he turned his head.  
Lying next to him just before he woke up.  
Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough.  
Eleanor ruining everything.  
Eleanor gone.

He'd stop trying to bring her back.

Park's eyes followed the guy as he shuffled across the room and plucked the set of headphones from their hook by the speakers before sliding them onto his ears and selecting a song.  
As Park's hands moved and shifted to pack away the latest arrival of issues, his mind worked to guess which song on the Aerosmith album the guy's head bobbed to as it played through the headphones and into his head.  
Park often played that little game with himself. It was one of the many activities he used to get through the day.  
As a distraction.  
And to keep his mind from wandering to her.

He set the box down on the counter behind him while absentmindedly deciding to sort through its contents later, before sinking down onto a wooden stool at the cash register as he flipped through a Watchmen issue.

"Excuse me?"

Park glanced up, his eyebrows inching their way up his forehead as his green orbs peaked out from the top of the page.

"Do you have any Joy Division albums?" The guy asked, his blue eyes glinting in the dim golden glow of the bulb dangling over their heads.

Park felt his hand inch its way across his ribs and come to rest on his chest, just over his heart, and he focused hard on its beats to keep from flinching away from the young man's words.  
Everything reminded him of her.

He couldn't seem to find his voice and so he merely shrugged his hunched shoulders in reply while forcing his hand from his heart and back down to his side, but he quickly found it would not remain there and so he grasped the corner of the page, working hard not to clutch the delicate material to avoid wrinkling it.

Park could see the pinch in the guy's lips as he nodded slowly, his brow furrowing.

"Okay," He said. "Well, I'll just leave you my name and number and you can contact me if you're expecting to get anything in stock anytime soon." His pressed lips faded into a grin, a lazy one with the corners turned up in ease.

Park shrugged again as he reached behind him and pulled open a drawer where he found a stray sticky note page and a pen before sliding the objects across the counter, and he found his eyes following the guy's hand as it slid across the paper yellow with age, his script light and fluid.

"I'm Levi." He told Park with his hand extended over the counter between them.

"Park." He grunted without glancing up as he shook his hand twice rather roughly.

"Okay well, thanks Park." Levi called over his shoulder as he stepped through the door and out of Park's mind.  
Because that was what that shop was for him, his mind and every thought that passed through.

She was hidden in everything.  
In the words written on the page.  
In the lyrics hiding in the music.  
Always lingering in the back of his mind, even when he tried to forget.  
She was never far from his thoughts.

He'd stop trying to bring her back.  
But sometimes, he didn't need to.


	5. Chapter 5: Stay Gold

**Hey guys!**

**Sorry this chapter took awhile, but as I said, I was away in Europe for a month.  
Anywho, I really hope you guys like this chapter and try to tell other people about this story if you can, I would really really appreciate it!:)**

**Please enjoy and let me know what you think!:)  
Oh and I made a mistake guys, Eleanor and Park should actually be forty-two in this story because I forgot that Fangirl concluded with the start of summer 2012.**

**-birdywings**

* * *

5

Stay Gold

Eleanor could feel the heat rising in the large red splotches dotting her neck under the gaze of the blue orbs that scanned the room.  
All around her was the commotion of chatter and the shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs against the floor as her fellow staff members milled about the staff lounge, conversing with one another before settling down for their meal.

It seemed impossible to Eleanor that there could be all this noise, yet the only sound that managed to reach her ears was the pounding of her heart within her chest.  
She sucked in a deep breath while her hands fiddled with each other and tried to refrain from trembling.

She could just imagine the same uneasiness the newbie standing in the corner of the room was feeling.  
She could feel the tremors running through her hands.  
She could hear the pounding of her heart everywhere.  
She could feel the pressure of her eyes darted around the room for an available seat with that nervous and wild look to them.

She experienced it all.  
And it all brought her back.  
A flash from the past.  
A glimpse of what was.

It all came back to her.  
That one vision reopened countless old wounds of lies and broken promises.  
It all brought her back twenty-six years in that one breath.  
In that one beat.  
In that one blink.

She remembered climbing onto the bus for the first time.  
She remembered standing in the isle while the demons of the bus pushed past her, each one filing down the path until they reached their seats.  
She remembered all the shouting and hollering that erupted from the back of the bus.  
She remembered feeling the weight of Tina's smirk as she observed her from the opposite end of the bus, waiting for the tears that stung Eleanor's brown eyes to spill down her face.  
She remembered her cruel expression and how she could just envision Tina's tongue skimming her crooked bleach-white teeth while her devil tail swished in circles behind her. You could practically see the steam puffing out of her flared nostrils and the slight twitch of delight in the arced horns sitting atop her head of golden locks.  
Even after all that time, Eleanor could still feel the nervous energy pulsing through her hands now that she felt that day on the bus.

But even through everything else, she still remembered him.  
The first time she saw his eyes. So green they were almost yellow.  
The first time she saw his face, his skin. Although she hadn't noticed it that day, she remembered it now. The faint halo of gold the sun cast against his honey skin through the glass. It was there. She remembered it. Because he was the sun, and that was the only way she could think to explain it.  
The fist words he spoke to her. His voice was still so clear in her mind. It was the music that she remembered when she missed him most, (which was everyday). It was the song he gifted her with.  
She held him like a secret in her heart, tucked away within it beats.

Eleanor was drawn back from the past by the shuffling of the newbie's footsteps around the room as she poked her head around the room, the nervous blue in her eyes searching for a vacant seat among the occupied tables.  
She couldn't help it.  
Eleanor felt her eyes flick up and come to rest on the newest addition to the Barnes & Noble staff.

She was young. Probably no more than a college student. Freshman?  
Her brown hair was knotted into a loose bun on the crown of her head, and Eleanor's eyes followed the stray strands of brown as they fell around her neck. Her blue eyes were shielded by a pair of purple glasses that slid down the bridge of her nose, and Eleanor didn't need to take more than a single glance at the spectacles to guess that they were not only for the aid of her sight, but for protection as well. Like armor. Like a veil. Like a _mask_.  
The way she stood, with her shoulders hunched and her head hanging low between them while her hands fiddled at her sides and tugged at the hem of her shirt, failing to disguise the tremble in them.  
She looked close to tears. But also, a little pathetic.  
Still, Eleanor couldn't help but feel a knot of sympathy form in her stomach for her. Because she too remembered how it felt to want to be invisible.  
To want to disappear.

_Oh, what the hell. _She thought a split second before her dark eyes disappeared into their sockets.

"Jesus-fuck," Park spoke through Eleanor's lips just under her breath and just loud enough for the newbie to hear.

Spectacle's head whipped up at her words, her shaking hands now more noticeable than a moment ago as she stared at her, her orbs wary and nervous with her pink lips slightly parted.

"Just sit down."

And so, Cath Avery did.  
She scooted the empty chair out from under the table, careful not to make any noise in the process for fear of attracting the attention of the countless pairs of eyes around her.  
She plopped down in the plastic chair, her held breath slowly deflating from her mouth as she tried to hide her relief. But it was evident to Eleanor. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel it.  
Spectacles kept the brown paper bag containing her meal of a soggy tuna sandwich, a protein bar and an apple juice box in her lap even when Eleanor drew her lunch closer to her, making room for Newbie.

She didn't say anything.  
Thank God she didn't thank her.  
Eleanor just wasn't in the mood for talking.  
She set her fruit salad down on the table and planted her hands on the armrests connected to her chair. She let her head hang back against the chair-which was much to small for her-and stared up at the ceiling fan sending a light breeze her way from above her head while she waited for a world of suck to hit the fan.

* * *

The tears started rolling before Cath could blink them back.  
A sob rose up in her throat and she was too late to catch it before it escaped, but she clamped a hand over her mouth anyway in an attempt to muffle the horrible and piercing cry.  
It was like nails on a chalkboard to Eleanor's ears.  
Maybe she wouldn't hear her...

Of course she would. Cath sounded like a cat being drowned and strangled simultaneously.  
But still, Eleanor didn't speak a word.

When Cath had finally reduced her sobs to silent tears, she left only the sound of hers and Eleanor's hands tearing the covers of unsold books from their spines.  
It was a bloodbath.  
With every precious book came the jarring sound of ripping pages, followed by a shower of their shreds to tumble to the floor below.  
She couldn't handle it.  
What kind of person could do this?  
What kind of monster _would_ do this?  
She was a murder.  
The mangled books held the evidence.  
She had the blood of books on her hands.

Cath stifled another sob as she ripped through a copy of _The Ousiders._  
The words rang in her ears.  
_Stay gold Ponyboy. Stay gold._

She tugged on the sleeve of her grey cardigan and used the end of it to wipe her tears away.  
That's when she felt a book slip into her open palm dangling at her side.

She whirled around to find Eleanor's hand extended out to her with another copy of _The Outsiders._  
Cath stared at the book, open-mouthed with no words to spill from her lips, and before Eleanor could change her mind, Cath grabbed the novel and shoved it into the pocket of her cardigan.  
Eleanor then returned to her task, her dark eyes not even revealing a hint of what had just occurred.

Maybe Cath couldn't fly behind the glass and within the concrete walls.  
But maybe. Just maybe. She could, at the very least, spread her wings.

* * *

**P.S. I just finished Eleanor & Park for the fourth time, (Such a beautiful novel guys:'), God I love it! Anyway yeah, so I am almost completely refreshed, I am just brushing up on Fangirl now so yay!:)**

**More to come soon! Hope you all enjoyed! Oh and I just posted a prologue to this story so go check it out when you can!;)**


	6. Chapter 6: Come & Go

6

Come & Go

Letters, postcards, yellow padded packages that rattled in her hands. None of them opened, none of the read.  
It was bad when the letters came everyday. It was worse when they stopped.  
Sometimes she laid them out on the carpet like tarot cards, like Wonka bars, and wondered whether it was too late.

Of course it was too late.  
She hadn't spoken so much as called him since the night she left.  
Since the last time she saw him, his green-yellow eyes and his honey skin.  
Since the last time she ever laid eyes on the sun.  
Since she told him goodbye for what she knew would be the last time.  
But that was all twenty-six years ago.

They were different people back then.  
Yet at the same time, they were still Eleanor and Park.

Eleanor set the box containing all that was left of him on the carpeted floor and slid it into her closet.  
She didn't have the strength to throw any of him away.  
Partly because she still missed him and saw him every time she heard Joy Division or Aerosmith playing. But mostly because she figured he was already sick of her by now, and if that was the truth, than she couldn't let go without holding onto what was left of them in her life.

Because Park wasn't a boyfriend, he was a champion.  
And they weren't going to break up. Or get bored. Or drift apart. (They weren't going to become another stupid high school romance.) They were just going to stop.  
And even if Park wasn't sick of her by now, Eleanor figured he probably hated her at this point. That he despised her for leaving him without so much as a word for all those months before finally sending him nothing but a postcard with only three words scrawled across the white stationary.

She still remembered that day.  
The day she wanted to believe even for just five seconds that there was something more than just what life gave you.  
For the one moment, she wanted to believe there was something as impossible as hope.  
For her mom.  
For Maisie.  
For Ben.  
For Mouse.  
For Little Richie.  
Even for herself.  
But most of all, for Park.  
For them.  
For what and all that they were.  
For them and the future.

In that one moment all those years ago, she let herself believe in hope.  
In possibility.  
In the small sliver of chance that she would see him again, even if it was only long enough for her to tell him she was sorry.  
She left him with only three words because it was all she had left to spare.  
It was all she could give him now, (which was fairly pathetic considering he saved her life).  
She could never repay him.  
But she was his, and he was hers.

To have and to hold. Not forever-maybe not forever, for sure-and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now he was hers and she was his.  
And she wouldn't want it any other any.

Writing that postcard all those years ago, Eleanor let all everything that happened in that one year wash over her in those three words.  
All that he gave her.  
All that they did.  
Everything they were together.  
It had all come pouring out of her and onto the stationary.  
Those three words were all that had been left of her.

Maybe there was a chance and maybe there wasn't.  
But Eleanor wasn't holding her breath anytime soon.  
She wasn't holding onto anything but the words she left him with.  
Nothing but the lies and broken promises they had made.

But even so...  
As Eleanor sat slumped against the back of her creaky desk chair, she couldn't help but allow her dark eyes to drift to the pale, half-opened closet door all the while wondering in some forgotten part of her mind whether it was too late.

* * *

Eleanor's nostrils stung with the stench of the black trash bag she lugged over her shoulder.  
She kicked at the heavy door, chipping away at the fading green it was painted, with the toe of her converse and stepped out into the alleyway where the dumpsters sat between Barnes & Noble and the brick structure of the pizzeria next door.

She lifted the lid to the grey, creaky dumpster and shoved the trash bag in, slamming the lid closed.  
Eleanor then took a few steps down the alley until she could just see the parking lot peeking around the corner when she leaned on the cement building.  
She took a whiff of the air, trying to clear her senses of the pungent odor of rotting garbage while she watched the people come and go from the bookstore.

Somewhere in the midst of the mostly-vacant parking lot, a blue book donation bin for children's charity caught Eleanor's eye.  
She couldn't fathom why their manager didn't just donate all their unsold books rather than tear them to shreds in the backroom. It was a terrible and despicable waste of literature if you asked Eleanor. And it was then that she vowed to smuggle the crates of unsold books over to the donation bin whenever she got the chance. Cath would help her. She seemed like the honest and generous type. Plus Eleanor was fairly certain that Cath was at least a little terrified of her. And how could she blame her? The first words Eleanor uttered to Cath were curses after all.

Still, she trusted that she could count on her for the help.  
Eleanor laughed in spite of herself, and allowed a smile to take shape in her lips even for only a moment.  
They could be like Batman and Robin. Fighting the crimes against innocent books and protecting them from those whose hands were dirty with the evidence.

Taking one last inhalation of sweet, fresh air, Eleanor spun on the heel of her yellow converse, kicking gravel up as she did, and turned to go. Only to whirl back around to face the parking lot when her gaze locked and focused on the woman with long, wavy brown hair cascading down her back as she flipped it over her shoulder.  
She had curves to her hips that had flattened out over the years under the grey pantsuit she wore. In her hand she held a paper Starbucks coffee cup and in the other, a leather case. She had a round face and a hard, mean stare to her brown eyes. And the sight of them caused Eleanor's heart to halt mid-beat while her breathing ceased.  
Because the last time she saw those eyes was twenty-six years ago.  
When the woman-who now began to cross the parking lot to reach her vehicle-was no more than eight years of age.

Eleanor stood there open-mouthed, watching the woman enter her car and speed away, leaving Eleanor in the dust with years worth of words hanging on the edge of her lips.  
But Eleanor understood.  
Because, of all people, she was the one who knew very well that people come and go.  
And seeing that woman, made Eleanor wonder for the third time that day whether it was too late.

* * *

**Hi guys!**

**Sorry this chapter took awhile, I really didn't consider how difficult it would be to write three stories at once:P But I am not giving up on any one of them I promise! I absolutely love writing and posting each and every one of my fanfics!:)**

**Okay, a special thank you goes out to the wonderful riversong and fantastic freezeon98 for their amazing reviews! Thanks guys! They mean a lot!:)  
And to riversong; Believe me, you are definitely not the only one who has a major crush on ParkXD He is my one true fiction-boyfriend, aside from Augustus Waters, and Four and a bunch of other guys from moviesXD So yeah, there is no shame in being a crazed and probably perverted fangirl over here!:) I am proud to admit my weird and quirky obsessions!**

**Okay, hoped you all liked this chapter, more to come soon! And does anyone want to guess who the woman that Eleanor saw was?:) Leave your answer in the reviews!**

**-birdywings**


	7. Chapter 7: Sleepwalker

**Hey everyone!**

**Sorry for the late updates, life is just crazy right now and this chapter is probably the longest I have written out of all my stories, so YAY! NEW RECORD!:)  
I want to dedicate this chapter to all my reviewers. Especially freezeon98, who has posted their thoughts every single chapter and to riversong for being with me since the very beginning of this little story of mine:) THANK YOU GUYS! YOU ARE ALL AMAZING!**

**And to rriversong; yes, you are correct! The woman Eleanor saw was her sister Maisie:)**

**Hope you enjoy and please post your thoughts for this chapter if you can! I love the feedback everyone:)  
-birdywings**

* * *

7

Sleepwalker

She only came back when she felt like it.  
In lies, broken-down deja vu, and especially dreams.

He saw her now.  
Her hair caught fire at dawn. All flames and red streaks of curls that spiralled around her neck.  
The freckles gathered on her shoulders like cream rising to the top and spilling over the rim.  
She looked like a vision there, a mermaid. Cool white in the darkness.

The sight of her. She was still glowing on the inside of his eyelids.  
Still lingering where she lay beneath the shadows.  
She didn't look peaceful, but more _at_ peace.  
As if she were more comfortable out of her shirt than in it.  
Like she was happy inside out.

Eleanor...  
He would never get enough of her.

Park didn't even stir until the telephone rang for the third time.

A mumbled groan emerged from his lips as he groggily propped himself upright at the end of the sofa. (Not that you could really call it a sofa). But more of an article of garbage that he plucked off the curb because it was as forgotten and broken and empty and pathetic as Park was when no one else wanted such a dirty, battered old piece of furniture. (Not that you could even call it furniture). Much less a couch.

He dragged himself to his feet, his limbs heavy and his senses foggy with sleep, and stumbled across the room to retrieve the phone, which was practically ringing itself off the hook.  
He answered the phone with heavy eyelids that cut his view of the pale green wall ahead of him in half and with a throaty 'hello', which was answered with the wail of an air horn.

"Jesus," Park mumbled under his breath as he yanked the phone away from his ear. "What the hell?"

"Hey brother! Were you asleep? You sound like you were sleeping."

"Josh?" Park demanded, blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Duh, who else would have the audacity to greet you with an air horn?" Josh's husky voice emanated from the other end.

"Someone who isn't standing within throttling distance from me." Park muttered.

"Yeah, anyway. Wakey, wakey Sleepyhead!" Josh sang through the line.

"Josh, I swear to God," Park sighed. "You better tell me what the hell you're calling for or I will beat your sorry ass."

"Well, hello to you too Park. Jesus, it's not like you NEVER call."

Park found himself cringing with guilt at his brother's words, because even though Josh was a pain in the ass most of the time, what he spoke was all too true. He felt his teeth digging into his lower lip, biting back his anger.  
"Sorry," He mumbled. "What is it Josh?"

"You forgot didn't you?"

"Forgot what?"

Josh sighed on the other end and Park felt it vibrate through into his skull. "I can't believe that you forgot!"

"Well, maybe you could quit gloating about it and give me a little refresher already?" Park snapped, his guilt quickly draining.

"Hello Park? Is your head still in the clouds?! Mom's birthday is today!"

Park's hand ran through his hair, combing through the dark strands. "Shit." He spoke under his breath. "Shit, shit shit."

"Yeah, and you were supposed to be here an hour ago with a cake." Josh droned on, and Park could just imagine him glancing at his watch with a smug little grin plastered to his face, because not for the first time, (and certainly not for the last), between the two of them, Josh wasn't the son who screwed up this time around.

"Shit, has Dad said anything?"

"No. He and Mom are too busy entertaining Susan and the kids."

"Okay, okay. I can be there in thirty minutes or so..." Park said as he shuffled down the hall and dug around in his room for a less-than-clean, but decent-enough shirt before slipping it on.

"Don't forget the cake."

"Shit. An hour then. Can you keep them busy for an hour?"

"Alright, but you owe me." Park could practically hear his brother's grin.

"Ugh, fine. I'll give you a ten percent discount at the store." He bargained.

"No chance. I'm family, a discount is a given."

"Fine then, I will babysit Nolan and Jazz free of charge for a _month._"

"Nah, sorry. Mom and Dad already beat you to it."

"Seriously? Can you not cut me a little slack here?" Park groaned as he hopped to pull his jeans on.

"Okay, okay. twenty-five percent discount, final offer."

"Deal."

"Good. Now get your ass in gear, Dad is giving me the eye of suspicion over here."

_"Hey! No cuss dirty mouth." _Park could hear his mom say on the other end, and he could just imagine her thumping Josh as high on the back of his head of dark brown hair as she could reach with a smile tugging at his lips.

With that, Park dodged his way through his one-bedroom apartment.  
He yanked is shoes on and laced them up at the door before snatching his car keys from the kitchen counter and hanging up without saying goodbye.

* * *

"Shit."

From the cushion of the passenger's seat and through the crimson that colored its cardboard box, Park could feel the heat rising in his cheeks under the pressure of the cake's glare as the words scrawled across the dessert bore through him. A constant reminder of what they wrote in their purple icing.

_"Mindy. M-I-N-D-Y?"_

_"No, M-I-N D-A-E." Park spelled through clenched teeth, biting and swallowing back his frustration._

_But despite his efforts to choke it back and tuck it away in the pit of his stomach, he could feel the anger reveal itself when his hands furled into fists at his sides. He unfurled them, digging his teeth into his lip again while his eyes followed the pattern of the woman's hands as they hovered and moved across the circular vanilla cake, scrawling 'Happy Birthday Mindy' over the blue frosting with the plastic bag of purple icing she caressed._

_"No. M-I-N D-A-E." Park told her again._

_"Yeah, yeah. I think I know how to spell Mindy dude." She spoke without lifting her eyes from the dessert, and even as she began drawing the Y on._

_"Okay, you know what? Just forget it. Just freaking forget it." Park mumbled as he slapped the twenty-dollar bill onto the counter.  
With a shrug, the woman packed the cake away in a box and slid it across the counter to him before shoving the money into the register._

He dug his teeth into his lip now when he took a right and pulled into his parents' driveway.  
He hadn't visited in at least a year.  
He was pretty sure he hadn't even called since Christmas, much less wrote them-who even writes anymore? Like, _actual, literal_, _handwritten, pieces-of-paper-you-stick-in-an-envelop, _letters anymore? Nowadays it was all emails and web-chat on that thingy-ma-jig that Park will never get the hang of, called the internet. And people didn't even write online anymore, it mostly texting on cell phones now.  
Josh used his cell phone all the time. Park could hardly remember a single minute during one of his not-so-frequent visits when Josh didn't have his face buried in that thing. To be honest, Park was surprised his brother hadn't gone blind yet after staring at that bright screen for hours on end. Park had also asked Josh, (seriously asked), why he hadn't glued the device to his ass yet if he was going to be on it all the freaking time.  
Josh had tried to coax Park into buying one, but advanced technology and Park just didn't agree with each other. Unless it had something to do with music. Park could always find music where there was the possibility of it.

Now, he unbuckled his seat belt and plucked the cake from the passenger's seat.  
He had to stop at the bottom of the front stoop, right at the edge of the steps, and again at the door before ringing the bell.  
He took a deep breath, held it for a minute-maybe two-before jabbing the doorbell with his thumb.

"Park." Susan said with a smile as she enveloped him in a hug before the front door was even a quater of the way open. (His sister-in-law was quite the hugger). It kind of reminded Park of high school, when their guidance counselor, Ms. Dunne, gave out hugs the way a drug dealer might sell drugs. (Minus the free of charge part).

"How are you? We've been waiting so long that we'd thought you'd lost your way." Susan informed him with a chuckle as she tugged him through the doorway before shutting it behind them and guiding him down the hall then through to the living room, where he was met with a chorus of his name.

"Yeah, sorry to keep you all waiting. Happy Birthday Mom." He said as his mother approached him with open-arms and a smile in her coral lipstick-coated lips.

"Ah! You too skinny Park," His mom said, concern coloring her tone, as she took a step back to look him over. "You eat okay?"

"Aw, Mindy, leave him alone. He just got here." His dad spoke, weaving his massive shoulders around Park's mom to clap his son on the back. "Was the drive okay?"

"Yeah, well enough." Park said with a shrug.

The next thing Park knew, two little bundles of energy came barreling down the hall and into his arms, and before he could step back, brace himself or even process what was about to happen, the wind was knocked from Park's lungs as he was tackled in an embrace by his niece and nephew to the carpeted floor.

"Park, Park Park! Guess what? Guess what?" They chirped in unison.

"I'm all ears." Park said as he pulled himself upright beneath their weight.  
At the age of seven, Nolan was already built like a boulder and tall enough to tag the monkey-bars at a playground without even having to jump. He looked so much like Josh did when he was young that it was like a blast from the past for Park-except for the fact that Nolan had blue eyes, (Susan's eyes), instead of Josh's green eyes.  
At ten years of age, Jazz had a river of golden hair flowing down her back, which kind made her look like Rapunzel. (Punzie was her nickname). She had Josh's eyes but Susan's nose.  
Park forgot how light her hair was, and how dark Nolan's was. He had forgotten the exact shade of their eyes along with the fact that they looked nothing unlike unless you really studied their features. He even forgot their completely different personalities, and how much they could argue and squabble with each other.  
He didn't spend nearly enough time with them.  
It occurred to Park that the next time he saw his niece and nephew, Nolan would be bigger than him and Jazz wouldn't even want to have anything to do with her own uncle anymore.

"I lost another tooth!" Nolan sang and gave Park a wide, gummy grin.

"I painted you a picture in art class yesterday!" Jazz spoke up.

"Wow Jazz, that is really beautiful! I suppose I'll have to hang it up as soon as I get back home. And did the Tooth Fairy come for a visit yet?"

"Uh huh," Nolan nodded, the light bright in his young blue eyes while Jazz beamed up at her uncle. "She left me two dollars, look, look!"

Park felt the slight weight of a few coins slip into his hand, which brought the attention of his gaze down to where a pile of coins lay in a heap upon his cradled palm.  
"Well, would you look at that. And what are you planning to buy with your treasure Champ?"

Nolan shrugged, sweeping the money from Park's hands and into his own. "Don't know yet. Mom says I should save it, but I want to buy a bunch of candy!" With his last word, the child extended his arms into the air for emphasis.

"That's exactly why she said you should save it Dummy! You already had three cavities, you don't need more!"

"Jazz, please don't call your brother a dummy." Josh spoke from the kitchen where he and Susan arranged the plates and utensils on the table and began to slice the cake. "And by the way Park, nice job on the icing." He added with only a hint of the grin he was hiding.

Park flashed him a glare before turning his attention back to the kids.

"You should do whatever you please, it's your money," Park ruffled a hand through his nephew's thick, dark hair. "But remember, spend it wisely. And watch out for the Sugar Monster!"  
Park then triggered a fit of laughter to emerge from the young children's mouths as he tickled their stomachs all up and down the sides until it ached.

Park had always envisioned himself with kids way back when, and he was good with them too when he wanted to be.  
But he couldn't have any now.  
He couldn't have any of what his brother had.  
Aside from the fact that he was too old now and it was too late, he just wouldn't be able to take care of a family.  
How could take care of a whole family when he couldn't even take care of himself?  
How could he provide for them and keep the air pumping in and out of their lungs and the blood flowing through their veins?  
How could he save their lives if he couldn't even save his own?  
At this point, was his life even worth saving?

Park didn't know.  
He couldn't tell anymore.  
He didn't know.  
And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

* * *

"I've got the dishes." Park said mostly to the floor after everyone had gobbled up their cake, and mostly because he still felt guilty about not visiting or calling enough like he should.

He began stacking the plates in the sink when his dad replied with, "Well, they're not going to wash themselves," and then, "I'll dry."

Park used to hold his breath when in the presence of his dad.  
Not out of fear or nerves, but for whatever he had to say next.  
He and his dad had always had a rough relationship growing up.  
Park always thought it was because his dad wanted Park to be more like him-a decorated veteran with a little dainty China person tucked away in his flak jacket and more guts than Park ever had that he carried on his massive shoulders.  
But over the years, as Park grew older and experienced life, he learned that even though his dad didn't always agree with him on certain things or even approve of most of Park's decisions, (The Great Incident Of The Eyeliner being one of the highlights on the long and ever-growing list of things Park did that his dad didn't approve of or agree with), his dad always had the family's best interests at heart.  
In his own way and with his own methods, his dad was just trying to do what was best for everyone He only wanted the best for everyone.  
He was Billy Jack, a warrior and a wise-man.

"How are you Park?" His dad asked now as he grasped a towel from its hook and swept up the tear of water the plate bled.

"Fine. Okay I guess." Park mumbled, focusing too hard on the dishes he scrubbed at.

"Business good?"

"Yeah. Well, a little slow during the week but it usually picks up by the weekends."

"You look like you've been working too hard."

"Just missing out on a few hours of sleep." Park said with a shrug.

"Maybe you should think about hiring some extra hands, even out the shifts at the store."

"Nah, I'm okay."

Park's hands froze when his dad reached across the sink and shut off the faucet of running water.  
He slapped the towel gently on the counter and turned his gaze on his son.

"Listen Park, we're worried about you. All of us," He waved a hand through the air, gesturing to those who were playing a game of Monopoly in the next room. "Especially your mom."

Park shrunk back at his dad's words, cringing away from the guilt.  
What had he become since she erased herself from his life? Since she became nothing but a smudge of a postcard with three simple, but powerful words scrawled across the pale stationary.  
He became empty.  
Withered.  
Broken.  
Nothing but a hollow shell.  
Nothing but a ghost that phased right through life and everything and everyone around him, letting everything moment wash over him.  
It now dawned on Park that he was still sleepwalking in the past.

"We're aware we can't force you to visit or call or even write when we want to know how you're doing, and even then, when we ask you in person, we still don't know how you're _really_ doing. We know you're not the kid you once were anymore. But it would really mean a lot if you could, at least, for the love of God, call more. We love you Park and we want to be apart of you life," Park absorbed his dad's words but stared off into space instead of looking him in the eye, watching his dad's hand rub nervously at the tension in his neck while he spoke.  
"But if you're going to push us away and retreat inside yourself, can you please just hire someone for Christ's sake? Just so we at least know you have _someone _around, even if it's a complete stranger, and that you're letting _someone_ in."

That's when Park-though still floating through the abyss and void of space-felt himself being enveloped and folded into his dad's arms. Into his dad's embrace.  
Park felt the tension stiffen his body for a moment and then, he felt himself relax into his dad's arms.  
It had been a long time since Park had felt this safe while inside the little cocoon that their arms created around each other.  
It had been longer than he could remember since he felt this protected, not from life, but from himself.

He dad pulled away after a minute, luring Park back from the edge of the abyss, and flipped the faucet back on.  
Without another word to pass between them, they continued to wash and dry the stack of dirty dishes sitting in the water that had pooled in the sink in the silence that followed Park's dad's words.

* * *

HELP WANTED, the sign read in red bold letters. The words melted through him, washing right over him in a ripple so small he couldn't even process either their words or their meaning.

_Help...  
_Park didn't need help.  
He didn't _want_ help.  
What he needed was to remember.  
To remember her and all the many other miracles she was made of.  
To remember the sound of her voice and not the sound of her sobs she cried on the day their paths divided.  
To remember the way she looked with her torn jeans and button-down shirts from the men's section of the store with the silk scarves tied and knotted around her wrists. All dressed up like the sad and beautiful hobo-clown she was.  
He needed to remember. To remember without the pain and the gaping hole growing and the gasping loss of her.

He needed to remember.  
He wanted to remember what it was like to be young and in love with comics.  
With music.  
With Eleanor.  
He wanted to remember Eleanor.

Park tossed the sign with the large, red bold letters into the waste basket behind the cashier counter and picked up the phone, dialing the last number he expected.  
"Hey, Levi was it? It's Park. Anyway, I was just wondering... How would you feel about getting a job?"

* * *

He shut the door behind him, causing the glass to rattle in the display window before jamming the key into the lock and securing the store for the night.  
Park shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, enclosing his fists around the brass key before making his way down the sidewalk, and he hadn't even gone two steps before the woman spoke from behind him with a voice he could never erase his memory of, "Park?"


	8. Chapter 8: Between The Lines

**Hey everyone!**

**Thank you to riversong for the awesome review! They really mean a lot and I am so happy that you are enjoying this story:)****  
****As for advice on getting started here as a fellow fanfiction writer; DO NOT BE AFRAID:) believe me, I was so scared to share my work with everyone here at faanfiction . net. But I realized that you just gotta do things that frighten you in life sometimes, because otherwise, how are you ever going to be able to jump the hurdles that will be placed in your path every once in awhile?:)****  
****So, rule #1: DO NOT BE AFRAID:)**

**Rule #2: Be open to reviewer's suggestions:) it's both really inspiring and enlightening to see what other ideas fellow fans have or what suggestions they may make to your writing:) listening to, absorbing and applying the advice you receive can really help shape one's writing. It gives you more experience and maybe it may even help improve your writing.**

**Rule #3: Don't take flames! Everyone has a right to their opinion of course, but so do you! If you don't like the things someone may have to say about your story then ignore them! What I love most about writing is that it's YOUR world in YOUR hands and only YOU, and YOU alone decides what you make of your story:)**

**Rule #4: DO NOT, repeat, DO NOT be so hard on yourself! I cannot tell you how many times I have weaved my very own ideas for books that I want to get published, but everytime I even come close to typing anything out, I allow my big fat head to get in the way, which then prevents me from even getting a word down on the paper.****  
****So yes, you do want to reflect on your work but remember: when it comes to writing, we are our own worst enemies because we always, ALWAYS expect so much more out of ourselves. Plus, after you have jotted down a few stories and the more you write, the easier it will get to share your work:)**

**Rule #5: HAVE FUN! Let your imagination run WILD!**

**So again,****  
****#1: Don't be afraid!****  
****#2: Be open!-listen and observe!:)****  
****#3: Don't put up with the haters!****  
****#4: Don't take it so seriously and do not be so hard on yourself! Writing should be a fun, transformative process!****  
****#5: Have fun! Set your mind free and take your readers on a journey!**

**I hope this helps!:)****  
****Oh, ad let me know when you do get an account because I would love to read your stories!:)**

**Hope you all like this chapter, and please leave a review if you can because they really help:)**

**-birdywings**

**P.S. I am thinking about writing the Carry On Simon story... any interest? Thoughts? Let me know!:)**

* * *

8

Between The Lines

There was a boy sitting outside her house.

Even from the backseat of her dad's Honda civic, Cath could easily spot the golden head of Levi sitting upon his long neck, which was attached to the rest of his long, lanky frame while he leaned with his whole body against the burgundy that painted their front door.  
(Levi, always leaning).  
She could see the outline of his jaw and his golden face perfectly; all finely drawn lines, ruled and pencil. And in between those lines was Levi.  
Her long, lanky, towering, mocha-scented, thousand smiles, beautiful Levi.  
Cath could feel the pull of him in her stomach, (because everything Levi happened in her stomach), and it was so hard that she had to resist the gnawing urge to sprint the last few steps to climb their front stoop an into his long arms.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her face tight and her voice three pitches too high.  
God, even just from looking at him she had no control over herself.  
She had to disguise the cringe at her tone of voice.

"Well, it's nice to see you too Cather." He replied with one of his many abundant smiles as he pushed himself onto his feet and enveloped Cath in a warm and familiar embrace against his long, lanky body.

"No, er, I just meant that I'm surprised to see you." She mumbled into his chest, her words muffled against his flannel shirt, yet she refused to pull away. Especially once she caught a whiff of him again. The scent of him all mocha with a hint of fertilizer.

He laughed and she felt it on her temple. "I'm teasing Cather. How are you?"

"Okay. Were you working on the ranch today?"

"Yeah, I apologize for the unpleasant odor of fertilizer with what perhaps might very well be cattle manure. Forgive me Cather, but I did not have a chance to freshen up before I left."

"You didn't get the chance or you didn't want to take the chance?"

"The latter is more likely. What can I say Cather? I couldn't wait to see you any longer. The wait would have been most excruciating to endure."  
And she, Cath laughed.  
She couldn't help it.

"Lieutenant Starbuck." Wren said with a salute of her hand when she walked past the couple o her way into the house.

"Good to see you too Wren." Levi said, also with a salute but a wider grin engraved in his lips.

"Levi, good to see you again." Cath's dad greeted him with an extended hand.

Levi slid his palm and fingers into her dad's and shook it twice. "You too sir." He said, before relieving the man of the plastic white bags of take-out he carried with him.

"Sir," Mr. Avery echoed in awe with a grin on his face. "I tell you Cath, this one's a keeper." He hardly whispered to her over his shoulder as they filed into the entrance.  
Cath was confident that Levi had heard every word.

"So Levi, we just picked up some take-out if you're hungry, taco and Avery-style."

He laughed. "Well, I have to admit, all that driving did work up an appetite."

Wren took a bite of the taco she held in her hands, which cracked and crunched in her mouth as she chewed away, before sliding the container of the food across the counter and saying around a mouthful of food, "Bon appetite."

After dinner and tossing out all the empty styrofoam take-out containers, they all squished on the couch to sit down for yet another one of their Simon Snow marathons.

"So wait, Simon and Basil _aren't _a couple in here?" Their dad asked several times during the film, pointing with a finger at the screen and looking to the three of them for clarification.

"NO!" They all three would shout simultaneously.

"But you girls are always going on about how in love and obsessed they are with each other." Their dad would replay with clasped hands and a bat of his eyelashes.

"That's with _fanfiction_ dad."

"Which is different from the movies?"

"YES!"

"So they're not together in the books?"

"Oh, my God dad, NO!"

Several hours had been spent watching the series of films.  
They had just reached the halfway point of the fifth movie, (also their second-to-last leg of the marathon), when Wren made them shut the film off and retreat upstairs so she could watch and brush-up on the last few reruns of Pretty Little Liars before the second season was released in the fall.

"That's fine, I don't think I'll ever understand that Simon Snow hocus pocus shit anyway," Their dad said, rising from the couch and stretching for a moment before heading for bed with a yawn.

"Not too late." Cath called after him, stifling a yawn.

He flashed her a grin that was heavy with sleep at the edges if his lips and in the corners of his eyes, and whispered back before shutting his bedroom door behind him. "As the parent, isn't it my job to tell you that?"

Cath climbed the stairs up to hers and Wren's bedroom with Levi following close behind.  
She could feel hi mocha-scented breath on her skin while his fingers entwined themselves into her hair of brown that was tied back in a ponytail.

She stopped in front of her doorway, staring down the little 'Do Not Disturb, Magicians At Work' sign with the image of a wand casting a sprinkle of stars across the stationary that she and Wren still had dangling from the doorknob.  
She spun on her heel, turning on Levi with a finger jabbed in his face, and speaking in the most stern tone she could possibly muster while staring into his eyes of clear, endless and mesmerizing blue, "No laughing this time, promise?"  
He held his hands up in surrender and placed a pair of fingers at the corner of his lips before sliding them across, zipping his mouth closed into a smile.

She shook her head at him, endeavoring to hide the smile pulling at her lips.  
He was unbelievable.

Cath placed her hand on the knob and inhaled deeply before opening the thin panel of a barricade that stood between the world and Cath's world.  
She could practically feel Levi's smile behind her. She could just see his lips spreading from ear to ear as he skimmed their bedroom where dozens upon dozens of Simon Snow posters and sketches were plastered to the walls and pale ceiling that hung above them.

"Shut up." Cath muttered while fighting the tug in her lips.

"I didn't say anything!" Levi argued in defense, stifling the laughter that had bubbled up in his stomach.

A sigh deflated from Cath's lips before she strode across the room and gently perched herself at the head of her bed. She lay a hand at the end of the mattress and patted the tangle and knot of sheets that lay beneath her, motioning for Levi to sit when he didn't join her right away.  
With a red-tinted face, Levi puffed his cheeks out and looked directly into her blue eyes, causing the heat boil up in her stomach under his gaze.

His lips moved slightly, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry', and not even a second washed over them before he burst into a fit of laughter.

"Cath, I thought I warned you to lay off the Simon, you know how it disagrees with your stomach. I mean just look at this room!" He said, tossing his arms up at the ceiling and in between his laughter. "The evidence is all over it!"

Cath could only manage a roll of her eyes at him with a flick of her hand, gesturing for him to carry on and get it out of his system. Because if she were to open her mouth right now, she would probably just start laughing right along with him. Not because she thought this was funny, but because Levi was magic.  
He had this infectious signature charm that was difficult _not_ to catch and fall victim to.  
He lit up the room.  
He was the brightest thing there was.  
He was magic.  
And she had fallen under his spell.

When Levi finally managed to regain his composure, Cath scooted over on the bed and felt his arms snake their way around her middle, tying themselves around her as he pulled her into him and wrapped her into a cocoon composed of his own body.  
She could feel his every breath enter and leave his body with the rises and falls of his chest beneath the flannel.  
Cath took a shaky breath, feeling Levi's hands skim her skin until they found hers lying in her lap and interlaced his fingers with hers. Her eyelids dipped slightly when he began to rub continuous circles on the inside of her palm with his thumb, and he felt every single muscle in her back relax into his chest one by one.

Is was too dim in the room.  
Too quiet and heavy with the silence of night that it made it easy to fall into sleep right then and there in Levi's too-soft and too-warm arms.

"Cather?"

"Hmm?" She answered in a mumble with eyes that were just barely halfway open.

"Read me some fanfiction."

Her eyes opened then, and she swivled in his arms stare into the blue that painted his eyes. "Now?"

"Yes." He said with a grin of dazzling white teeth that sent Cath's stomach all up in knots.

"Okay," She said, reaching at the end of her bed for her laptop. "Any requests?"

"Carry On Simon," Levi answered from behind her, and she could tell that his eyes were already closed while his ears prepared to absorb and drink in her every word. "You still haven't read me that one yet."

Cath felt the red tint her cheeks as she woke her laptop up with a swipe of the mouse and pulled up fanfixx . net "Are you sure? It's kind of-..."

Cath's voice trailed off, her lips searching for the right words but coming up empty-handed.  
It wasn't that she didn't wait to read Levi her work. She just didn't want to read Levi that particular story.  
It was difficult to explain, but Carry On Simon was Cath's story, in the way that her thoughts were her thoughts and her body was her body. She had taken The world of Gemma T. Leslie's making and weaved it into her own. So in the end, in some way, it had become _Cath's_ story, (which was ridiculous considering thousand and thousands of people had already read it).

But anyway...  
Tyrannus Basilton Pitch,  
Simon Snow,  
Penelope Bunce,  
The World of Mages,  
They were all Cath's.  
She was theirs, and they were hers.  
She had kidnapped The World of Mages and raised it as her own.

"Yes Cather, I'm sure. I want to hear your every word." He whispered against her ear.

She took another deep breath.  
Nodded once.  
Twice.  
Three times.  
Then typed her story into the search bar, ad it popped right up.

She straightened her glasses and cleared her throat, feeling the heat rise on her neck in red blotches under the gaze of Levi's closed eyes, his arms squeezing her middle, and her heartbeat everywhere.  
"Chapter One-"

"Cather?"

"Shh, I'm trying to read," She cleared her throat again. "Chapter One-"

"Cather, will you come with me to Arnold?"

"Take a shower first, you still really reek, then we'll talk."

"Doesn't matter, I'm on the couch again anyway so my stench shouldn't bother you."

"I'm pretty sure you've already tainted my room just by standing in it, let alone my bed."

He laughed, and Cath felt it in between her shoulder blades. "Well then it really shouldn't matter."

"You owe me a new bed."

"Cather?" He whispered into her hair as his fingers reached up and pulled it loose from the rubber band.

"Maybe some air-freshener while you're at it too..."

"Will you? Will you come with me to Arnold when I depart and meet my family?"

The tremors were in her hands again, triggering and earthquake to rattle her entire body.  
The knots tightened, then loosened, then tightened, then loosened in her stomach.  
And the word was diving from her lips before she could bite it back.

"Yes."


	9. Chapter 9: Blank Pages

9

Blank Pages

* * *

She felt the tremors everywhere.  
In her lip, quivering beyond her control.  
In her throat, so thick and sticky that no words could be spoken from her.  
In her hands, quaking through to her fingers and trembling them beyond her prevention.  
In her heart, the shudders pulsing in its beats.

The gaze of her eyes remained fixated on the dirt road ahead, motionless and distant with a glassy touch to the blue that painted them within their sockets. They didn't even flick up to watch the four-story ranch house towering over a field slathered with green of a span of at least forty acres grow into view as they approached the property. But what difference did it make? It's not as if every house and field for the last fifty miles hadn't looked the same. Let alone for the last three hours and thirty-three minutes that they had been on this ceaseless road of cement for.

Cath didn't even feel nor process the shudder of Levi's truck as it rolled to a stop on the graveled driveway.  
She clenched and unclenched her wavering hands, as if doing so would somehow bring an end to the knot of anxiety and dread she had been twisting and untwisting from, only to re-twist into it, this entire road trip.  
She released the breath her lungs had held the whole ride, and felt an immediate wave of relief wash over her as the shriveled organs expanded once more within her rib cage.

Cath felt the warmth of Levi when his hand fit into hers. His fingers sliding in between her own, and suddenly it occurred to Cath that there might be a more distinct and concrete reason as to why they have gaps between them. That there was more purpose to the spaces between our fingers. And maybe this was it. Maybe the spaces between our fingers were created so another's could fill them in.

Her eyes fell on their hands. Entwined, interlaced and clasped upon the center console.  
"Okay?" Levi asks while prodding an elbow gently into Cath's arm.

She swiveled against the fabric of the passenger's seat to face the structure of white with green windowpanes and doorjambs waiting on the other side of the glass for her.  
She bit her lip to hide its quiver. Furled and unfurled her hands several times in her lap. And tried to blink the anxiety drowning out the blue in her eyes. But it was there. It was always there.  
The lone buoy bobbing out in the midst of the endless blue of the sea.

She felt the tears stinging the back of her orbs.  
_Hold it together. Hold it together. _

This was all Wren's fault.

_Cath had just barely drifted off when their bedroom door swung open and slammed against the wall, chipping away at the powder-pink it was painted.  
__"Shit." She heard the distant voice of Wren mumble, her night vision evidently not as sharp and proficient as Reagan's, as she stumbled through the darkness of their room._

_"Hi." Cath mumbled groggily into her pillow._

_"Shh, go back to sleep." Wren hissed.  
__Cath's eyes, which were still sticky and heavy with sleep, opened slightly to watch the silhouette of her sister dance through the pitch-blackness while she kicked off first her boots, then her jeans before she yanked on a pair of cotton pajama pants with a slight hop. And after smudging away her make-up, (or rather smearing the inky liquid across her face), she climbed into the twin bed opposite Cath's and slithered underneath the covers, nuzzling into her pillow._

_"How was it?" Cath whispered into the darkness between them._

_"Mmm, just perfect." Wren replied with shut eyes and a smile etched into her lips, which practically glowed in the dark._

_"Wren and Jandro sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-"_

_"Oh shut up Clevi." Wren snapped, tossing a pillow at where she estimated Cath's headd to be.  
She was satisfied to discover that the cushion had struck its target by the grunt that escaped from Cath's lips and into the shadows pooling around them._

_"Clevi?" Cath questioned, her nose scrunched and her eyebrows arched, as she rocked herself into a cross-legged position and rifled under her covers for her laptop-she had fallen asleep writing. Or rather, faded into slumber while in the process of trying to brainstorm what to write next.  
She still had a blank page boring into her soul in the way of what words her fingers will type up next._

_"Cath, Levi, Clevi?" Wren answered, her eyes falling shut again._

_"So we have a ship name now?" _

_"Pretty much." _

_"Why Clevi?"_

_"Well, I didn't really like the sound of Levath nor do I like the taste of it on my tongue. It has absolutely zero ring to it, so Clevi it is."_

_"Okay then, you guys are-" Cath started, only to be interrupted mid-sentence._

_"Don't bother, I already tried. How exactly can you put Wren and Jandro together and still have that certain, catchy ring to it?" _

_"Seriously? You already tried?" _

_Wren gave a shrug. "Well, when historians want to tell a love story as great as ours one day they'll need a suitable name for the two of us. Anyway, moving on. So what did you and Levi talk about?"_

_"Nothing." Cath said with a shrug._

_"Come on Cath, spill the beans." Wren pried, sitting up now._

_A sigh left her lips as the words formed on her tongue.  
After all, what was the point in keeping it from Wren? She could see everything.  
She had the built-in vision to see all the craziness that went on beneath this veneer of slightly crazy and socially-inept that Cath had built as a veil around herself.  
Plus, she was just in with Cath.  
__There was no forgiving.  
__No forgetting.  
__Because there was nothing to forgive.  
__And nothing to forget._

_There was no mask.  
There was no barrier.  
There was no lying.  
There was no deceit.  
There was no hiding  
There was no concealing.  
There was just in.  
Just in and built-in for life.  
Since always.  
And for always._

_"He wants me to go with him to Arnold and spend a few days at the ranch, get to know his family." Cath spoke, her words almost drowned out by the silence of the dark, without glancing over at her sister._

_"Cath! That's great! And so adorable, I must say." _

_"Shut up." Cath mumbled, trying desperately to contain the smile threatening to seep its way into her lips, for she feared it would dazzle even half as brightly in the dark as Wren's._

_"Yep, double wedding. It's happening. I can just see it all now," Wren said, placing her fingers on either side of her temple while her eyes drew closed. "I see, I see, ah, matching dresses. Flowers everywhere!"_

_"No, that won't work. Levi said he's selecting his own dress."  
And the twins burst into a fit of laughter._

_"Whatever you do, just keep me updated. I'm just a phone call away." Wren said with a sticky, gooey wink._

_Cath pulled her knees into her chest and drew her laptop nearer to her. "It doesn't matter, I'm not going."_

_"What?!" Wren practically shouted, always having been the twin who is difficult to go unnoticed and with little in the way of a volume control button._

_Shrugging off and ignoring her sister's shock, Cath proceeded to click the mouse and pull up her FanFixx . net account, along with her rough draft of a single, blank page, which brings her back to square one.  
__Cath became oblivious to her sister's presence as she tried to lose herself to the blank page displayed before the narrow slits of her sore eyes, which squint with strain under the bright glare of the screen.  
__To lose herself to the cursor that blinks before her, its every flash before her eyes like a taunt.  
__To lose herself to the words she yearns to have bubbling up inside of her just waiting to pour and spill from her lips.  
__To lose herself to the board of keys etched with every letter of the alphabet that will only compos the words hidden in her fingertips with the correct combination, which is a combination Cath did not possess._

_"Hey!" Cath hissed, momentarily forgetting to whisper when Wren slammed her laptop shut from the opposite end of Cath's bed.  
And Cath couldn't seem to recall feeling the bed sway and squeak from beneath her under Wren as er weight was added to the mattress._

_"What do you mean you're not going? You just told me you said yes to his invitation, so what do you mean you aren't going?" Wren questioned. Although her questions, even the one asked with a gentle tone, felt more like interrogations. Like Wren's very voice could transport you from the darkness and comfort of your own bedroom to the empty, dank interrogation room at a police station. _

_"Well," Cath's eyes glanced everywhere. Touching any and every shadow in the room they could find. Anything to avoid the scorching stare of Wren's transparent, icy blue eyes. "Well," Cath stuttered a moment before her eyes fell on Wren's by accident.  
Wren's blue eyes narrowed and flashed through the darkness between them, burning into Cath's like blue flames._

_"I'm going to embarrass him alright? I said it. Happy now?" Cath drew her hands back and rubbed her palms along her flannel pajama pants and kept talking when Wren didn't say anything. "I'm going to flip out and breakdown in front of his mom and she's going to classify me as the type of crazy that should be locked away behind four thick walls of concrete, and maybe I am, who knows anymore? It's all going to be too much and I'll start crying and shaking and melting down and I'll end up just like dad; lonely, single, sad, antisocial, depressed, crazy, mentally impaired, and damaged every which way possible. Plus I still have things to write, new stories I have left to discover and worlds I have to open up for Simon and Baz. Things they have to do, people they have to meet, places they have to-"_

_"You're wrong Cath," Wren spoke before Cath's words could become incoherent beyond comprehension. "You're dead wrong," She set aside Cath's laptop, pried Cath's knees away from her chest and grasped her hands in hers, interlacing her their fingers while she spoke. "You're only saying all these things because you're trying to talk yourself out of it," She said gently while drawing continuous circles into Cath's palm with her thumb. "You're trying to give yourself excuses not to go just like you kept telling yourself you weren't cut out for Fiction Writing class last semester because you were too afraid to try."_

_Cath dug around in her throat for the protest she wanted to feel rising up in her, but she emerged empty-handed.  
There was just simply no arguing with Wren.  
She was the life preserver that prevented Cath from drowning.  
The wings that prevented her from falling.  
The anchor that kept her from drifting away and at bay.  
The hand that kept her not entirely on land, but remaining on the edge of the deep, dark, ceaseless abyss lying below._

_"You need to start doing things that scare you Cath, at least once a day." She whispered as her thumb circled back around and retraced its pattern along Cath's skin._

_"But Simon... And Baz..." Was all Cath could muster._

_"Will still be here when you get back. But right now, it's time for Cath Avery to go find her adventure," Cath could see Wren's smile again, glowing in the dark. Dazzling and remaining untouched by any and all shadows. "It's time you go out there, into the great world of the unknown, find your own words and write your own story Cath." Wren's forehead inched towards Cath's and hovered there a moment before falling against hers and bringing a close to the space between them._

_"Do I get to take the Sword of Mages at least?" Cath whispered, her breath warm on Wren's chin._

_Wren laughed.  
"Fine, but the wands stay here. I can't let you take all the magic. Besides you've got an abundant supply of it up your sleeve."_

That night had been two days before Cath and Levi rolled away from Cath's home.  
From her dad.  
From Wren.  
From Simon.  
From Baz.  
From Omaha.

And now, now Levi was asking Cath if she was okay.  
Was she okay?  
She didn't know anymore.

But here was what she did know.  
There was Levi.  
There was her.  
There were their hands still entwined with one another upon the console.  
And there word the words.  
Still waiting to be written.

Cath turned back to face Levi, to which he replied with nothing short of a dazzling grin that wrinkled his forehead, crinkled the corners of his eyes and practically made the blue in them disappear into his cheeks. She couldn't help it.  
It was like something inside of him drew something stirring in the very depths of her stomach out of her.  
Her hand snaked its way up his chest, around his collar, and skimmed the skin on the nape of his neck, drawing his lips to hers.

"Okay?" He asked when they had parted.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes fell from his at her words. "I'm going to ruin everything."

"Hey," He whispered. "C'mere."  
She laughed slightly at this and allowed him to draw her into his chest.  
Into his flannel shirt and beating heart as he envelopes and absorbs her into him.

"It doesn't matter," He whispered into her knotted bun of brown hair. "I'm rooting for you."

It was only when her back ached and his arms grew sore from the embrace that they parted.  
As she swung down from the passenger's side, Cath glared the house down. Gathered her wits. Sucked in a breath. Pressed the tremors running through her hands into her thighs. Attempted to ignore the hammering in her chest. And strode forward with a high head upon her shoulders and a straight back. All the while wishing she had the Sword of Mages within the grasp of her fingertips.  
But it was without it that she entered the Dragon's Den.


	10. Chapter 10: Fire & Rain

10

Fire & Rain

"So Catherine, tell us about yourself."

Her fork froze in midair, causing the peas she had scooped up to spill one by one to her plate. Her hand gripped the piece of silver, pinching the utensil until her knuckles drained of their pink flush into a pale white as she tried to pinch the nerves slithering just beneath her skin from her body. As if doing so was as simple as juicing a lime. (If only).  
Slowly, her white-knuckled, iron grip loosened one finger at a time, and that's when Cath realized her mouth was hanging partially open. She bit it shut, using most of her steady focus to do so, causing her grasp on the silverware to loosen completely in the process. Her teeth dug into her lip as she cringed away from the clang of the utensil when it clattered against the ceramic of her dish.

"Sorry." Cath mumbled through clenched teeth and the sliver of an opening in between her lips.

The dining room quickly fell into a spell of silence thick and heavy with heat. And it was as if everyone and everything in the room-Levi, Cath, Marlisse, all the little antique features displayed throughout the completely furnished living room: the ceramic dishes, tea set of a pot and two dainty little cups, (all seemingly hand-crafted and painted by the looks of it), the array of family photos arranged neatly upon the bookshelf, which held not a library of Simon Snow that Cath was so familiar and well-acquainted with but rather an entire Barnes & Noble stock worth of religious works with more bibles then Cath could count. There was even one titled; 'The Teaching Of Preaching' tucked snugly away between the Encyclopedia Of American Religion and The Age Of Reason-were all holding their breath. It was like the silence before the storm; the moment you suck in a breath and silently count down the seconds while you wait for either the sun or rain. When the sun's rays of gold break through the sliver of a crack in the clouds, it burns. But when it rains, it pours.

The sweat began to bead her forehead, her nerves revealing themselves in the drop of perspiration that glistened on her skin. She could only hope that the dimmed bulb of light dangling from the lamp in the ceiling above their heads concealed the evidence of what a wreck she truly was well enough. Because Cath herself was sure as hell not capable of hiding what her body had a mind of its own for in the way of revealing what is best left buried beneath a plot of earth and the sunk deep in the very depths of the ocean where none may discover the craziness that pulsed through her every vein of blue.

Even though Cath's blue eyes rested on the perfectly spotless dark indigo of the velvet table cloth, she could feel the back of her orbs and every inch of her skin burn under the pressure of the watery-grey that leaked from the orbs of Levi's mother as she studied Cath's wavering hand suspiciously. Studied _Cath_ suspiciously, as if she were some insect. An insect from some kind of foreign realm a whole other planet apart. A dangerous foreign extraterrestrial insect that had to be squashed quickly.

"It's just Cather mom." Levi spoke up around a mouthful of mash potato and deep fried halibut.  
Cath could hear the smile behind his voice, and she was glad for his charismatic charm.  
Bless him. Bless him to infinite and beyond.

His mother dismissed Levi's words with a single flick of her wrist. It was with her fingers that she simply swept his words under a rug as if they were never spoken to begin with. "Please Levi, we were discussing Catherine."  
At this, Levi's grin withered and shriveled into a thin pink line of his lips the a flower wilts one petal at a time, and Cath couldn't determine whether her stomach was aching, twisting, bleeding, gnawing or crumbling for him. Or perhaps all at once. But what she knew for certain was that she felt him there. The constant tug of Levi beating in the very center of her being. He drew something out of her with even just the slightest of stolen glances upon his long, lanky figure and finely sketched face etched on the canvas in lines of charcoal. And Cath wasn't quite sure whether she liked what he drew from her or whether she was afraid of it.

"Just Cath."  
Cath mumbled in a squeak. She had to stifle the hiccup of nerves that rose in her throat and nearly caused her to choke on her words.  
She pressed her palms flat against her thighs, trying to rub the jitters from her hands along her jeans. But when that failed, she returned to clenching her fists and pinching the nervous energy from her skin.

"Well, Just Cath," His mom spoke. "Do share a little about yourself."  
Her every word bled from her lips like the breath of steam from the flared nostrils of a dragon. And when she spoke Cath's name, her lips released the fire brewing on the inside. Cath quickly realized she couldn't go on dodging the flames forever. It was time to fight fire with fire. Sword of Mages or no Sword of Mages.

"Well, I live up in Omaha with my dad and sister..." Her words shook only slightly on the way out, and she had to grin a little at this. Her lips breathed the pour of rain as fast as her mouth could move.  
Cath could just hear Wren whispering to her through the dark as she rubbed circles with her thumb into Cath's skin, _"Fire and rain."  
"We are unbreakable."_

But the fire came just as quickly.  
"No mother?"

"Er, no." Cath's shoulders deflated only slightly at this little tidbit of the conversation, and she beamed at this.  
It was getting easier to talk about She Who Must Not Be Named without letting the anger to reveal itself in her trembling fists and strained face just oozing tension before her face crumbled one muscle at a time. The thin line of her lips would quiver into the approaching tears. The sharp, narrow corners of her blue eyes would soften into the puddles of salty water that had pooled in each eye. Her clenched fists would unravel into the tremors that crawled through her hands as they wrapped around her stomach, hugging her middle. All the while she tried to hold herself upright. To hold her broken pieces together. To dim the detonation of the disaster of the animated grenade she was underneath her veneer of slightly crazy and socially inept. To keep her fragments only from briefly falling away and not apart.  
She would have to hide it all. Because she never wanted She Who Must Not Be Named to know exactly just how much she had affected her. Just how much she had impacted her and her sanity. How much she had broken her. How much she had meant to Cath.  
But That's the thing, she _had_ meant to Cath. She had shifted from meaning completely everything to meaning absolutely nothing over the years.

"Hmm... Interesting." Marlisse, spat with a bitter expression she hardly attempted to hide in her features. As if this entire conversation left a sour taste upon her tongue.

"Mom..." Levi spoke, his voice strained and almost pleading. His tone trickled with the color of irritation.

His words were met without acknowledgement or even a glance from his mother, as the grey watering her eyes never tore away from the blue painting Cath's. It was as if she were on a mission to either divulge or clean Cath from head to toe of her flaws, and Levi was the mere distraction of inefficient evidence that she had first tried sweeping under the carpet at her feet but was now smudging away with a bucket and cloth, spraying down the floor of his infuriating interruptions.

"And what are you studying at the University of Nebraska may I ask?"

"She takes Fiction Writing." Levi blurted, as if he couldn't contain a mouthful of secrets through his dinner anymore.

"Levi, who am I speaking to? Have I taught my children no manners?" His mother scolded her son, exasperation accompanying her every word.  
Levi clamped a hand over his mouth, failing to hide the smile and laughter lighting up the blue coloring his irises. His eyes crossed Cath's a moment before he motioned sealing his lips closed and his gaze landed on his mostly-empty plate of food, whereupon he shoved another forkful of mashed potatoes and peas into his mouth.

"Fiction Writing you say?"

Cath nodded, pinching the grin that fought its way into her lips into a thin, flat line of pink as she endeavored to avoid Levi's eyes. For if she caught them the smile tearing her inside and out would surely devour her entire face in a fit of laughter.

"And what is it that you like to write about exactly?"

Simon Snow.  
The world of magicians and vampires.  
The school of Watford.  
The band of Mages.  
The evil that is the insidious Humdrum.  
The good that is Penelope Bunce.  
The black and white truth of the love of Simon Snow and Tyrannus Basilton Pitch.  
In other words, gay fanfiction.  
How exactly do you explain this to the religious mother of your boyfriend?

"Uh, well..."

"She mostly writes fantasy," Levi pitched in. And this time, he had piqued his mother's attention. "But she also recently just got an original story of hers published in Prairie Schooner. That's the school's Underclassmen Journal."  
Cath felt around with her toes under the table, silently and cautiously searching for Levi's foot, (or possibly a shin), so she could kick him back into the spell of momentary silence his mother had cast upon him. Cath's goal to cross off her To Do list that night had been to survive both the introduction and dinner with his mom. Not to become her new favorite celebrity nor her new best friend, and _especially_ not her enemy.

"Really?" Marlisse inquired, her tone less then whelmed, but still, even a little bit intrigued.

"Uh huh," Levi blabbered on, wiping his lips clean of the mashed potatoes that flecked his chin like snow. "It went on to win the Underclassmen Prize, which by the way is a incredible achievement and honor for an undergraduate. You should read it mom, it's all over the internet. It's a story definitely worth both the read and write."

"Perhaps... What's it called?"

"Left..." The word left Cath's lips in a whisper. As if it might explode on Cath's tongue if she weren't careful with the fragile letters. It held within it the obstacle of Cath's life that she had overcome with much difficulty and at a great cost. The difficulty being the walking, talking disaster of chaos that she was. And the cost being Wren. She was her best friend built in for life and she had lost her over the one who abandoned them. Who left them alone with only each other's shoulders to cry on. Wren was all Cath wanted. Who was all she _needed_.  
And she wasn't about to lose sight of that again.

"Well then, I suppose I will have to read this story of yours Catherine," Marlisse said with a clap of her palms but without sincerity. She then stood from the table and began to gather the plates. "But, dishes first."

Cath began to rise from her seat. "I'll help you." She offered timidly, like she was expecting the dragon to spit fire at her any second now.

"Oh no, that's alright Catherine."

"You better listen to her Cather, my mom has serious feng-shui control issues when it revolves around her kitchen." Levi warned her as he lept from his chair, nearly sending it clattering to the floor in the process, and began to stretch his long body.

"Oh... Well, thank you for dinner Mrs. Switchenberg."

"Oh, please Catherine, call me Marlisse." She requested with a slight cringe at 'missus'.  
She swept swiftly in and out from between the kitchen and dining room. She cleared the table of the stained dishes, stacking them one by one along her arm. Collected the utensils, tucking them away in the used cups. Packed away the leftovers and scraped the remaining scraps of food from the plates and into the trash.

"Yeah, missus makes her feel old." Levi said. He strode over to her seat and slid his palms into Cath's, fitting his narrow fingers in between hers, before yanking her onto her feet. She teetered on her feet for moment at the force, falling into his chest and catching his scent for a second before rocking back onto her heels.

"Come on, time for the tour." Levi announced and gestured with his hands toward the staircase spiraling up into the second level. "Magician's first." He said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

As they made their way up the stairs one step at a time side by side with Levi's palm resting in between her shoulder blades, Cath noticed that he was grinning from ear to ear. And seeing his smile, well, Cath just couldn't fight the tug in her own lips as they widened into a grin and devoured her whole face.


	11. Chapter 11: Love Will Tear Us Apart

**Thank you so much to acciounicorn491 for your fantastic reviews that brought a smile to my face!:)  
****And it is because of you that I am inspired to write the Carry On Simon story, which I will hopefully begin sometime in the near future:) I am also intending to write the origin story of Park's parents. How they met and came to fall in love:) So I really hope I can get some interest for that story! Also please go check out my epilogue for Eleanor and Park, Nothing Ever Ends as it would really mean a lot:) **

**Please enjoy and review!:)**

**-birdywings**

* * *

11

Love Will Tear Us Apart

He froze where he stood, his every muscle petrified with the tension that rose in his every fiber. It grew like a living demon inside him, clutching him inside and out to the point he could no longer catch his breath. His fingertips ran cold. His palms grew moist. His skin became clammy. His lips tasted dry. His eyes darted everywhere, restless and pulsating with the nervous energy burning behind the green that colored their irises. His ears tingled with the sound of her voice. The sound they could never forget. The voice that was never lost.  
A voice he hadn't heard in twenty-six years.

"Park?" She spoke. "Park Sheridan? Is it really you?"  
She sounded far. Too far. As if every year spent apart was just another shovel digging another three hundred and sixty-five days deeper into the gaping mouth of the chasm that had formed between them. She was so distant that he struggled to hear her. Such a small blotch of a speck in the distance he couldn't even see her. So far away he could no longer touch her even if he strained to reach for the very tips of her fingers.  
They were so close, yet so far. And there still remained years worth of miles to recover between them.

He wouldn't turn to face her. He couldn't turn to face her.  
How could he? How could he bring himself to take an excruciating trip down memory lane? How could he watch all those images of memories that had been splotched and smeared into globs of blurs over the years? So smudged and stained they had become that he could no longer recognize the faces that the mixture of colors painted within his mind. How could he turn and look her in the eye without hating everything she ever stood for?  
After all, she betrayed him. But in a way, she had also saved them.  
So perhaps, even Tina, with all her flaws and demons running rampant and wild through her veins, wasn't quite beyond redemption just yet.

He didn't have to make himself face her. Thank God she didn't make him face her.  
"Well, as I live and breathe," The words left her mouth in a voice that was rather breathy and hushed. "Park Sheridan. Holy. Shit. Where the hell have you been all this time?"  
He couldn't taste any words tingling on the edge of his tongue, and so he was left with only the offer a mere shrug of his shoulder.

"Really? That's all you've got? That's all that's left of you after twenty-six years? Man, your mom wasn't kidding."

"You've been talking to my mom?" He demanded in a rather brusque tone. One that he just couldn't seem to help.  
It seemed like everything he did nowadays was in a rather curt manner.  
Perhaps Eleanor had left him more than either of them had thought. She had given him a little bit of herself. Little by little. Piece by broken piece.  
He didn't think he even breathed when they were apart. Which meant it had been two hundred and twenty-seven thousand, nine hundred and eleven hours since he had last taken a breath. All his anger toward the world and the bastard that life had a nasty habit of being when it wished on a whim was made up of damaged pieces on the inside. Brittle and bitter they were, threatening to fall apart whenever he saw a flash of bright. But no one had a fire that burned as bright as Eleanor did.  
He was angry. Angry that life could give them to each and tear them apart.  
But that is what love did, it tore people apart.

"Of course, we were always close. Plus I hold the record as her longest client."

"Wait, she's still managing the salon?"

"Yeah, she's just not taking in any new clients anymore. I would think that her son would know this but from what your parents tell me, I can see why you don't."

"I didn't know." He mumbled, his eyes glowing of green averting to the grey patch of paved sidewalk revealed between his tattered sneakers of black.

"Yeah..." Her voice trailed off into the heavy silence that ensued and drowned their words.

She still looked the same.  
Small. Dainty. Short.  
Compact and narrow with curves, and after seeing Eleanor, Park had to wonder where thin girls like Tina put all their organs. Let alone their bones or whatever inch of fat remained on their bodies. Did they pack it all into duct under their shirts? Did they even eat anything? Stuff it all into their jeans? Could you even pinch an inch?  
She still wore her head of blond in wavy tendrils of spiraling curls around her neck. Despite still having the same physical appearance, Park could tell just from the look of her that something had changed. But even then, Park knew that no matter what had changed or occurred over these long years, he knew that underneath the thin layer of flesh in which it was caged and shackled in, was the same demon of a mean streak that had lived and thrived in Tina so long ago.

In her hand she lugged a plastic bag with _Dairy Queen_ scrawled across its white. It sagged at the bottom in the shape of a rectangle, and Park could just catch a glimpse of the cake, which wrote in purple icing, _'Happy Birthday Stephanie'. _She must have noticed Park eyeing it.  
"It's our little girl's birthday today. Turning sixteen already. Where does the time go huh?" Her lips pinched into a feeble smile at her words, but her eyes spoke what she did not speak. The silence of what she dreaded and fretted to come soon. The day the birds decide they're too old for the nest.

"Yeah." Park echoed, his eye never abandoning the dessert.  
He stared the trio of words written in sugared icing. His dark brows furrowing into the crease of concentration etching its way onto his forehead.

"Remember when we were that young?"

He laughed out loud. He couldn't contain it.  
"Tina, I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday. Do you really expect me to remember what idiots we all were at sixteen?"

"I believe that you can remember. I just think you don't want to."  
The silence washed over them.  
Slow. Numbing. Heavy. Hot. Thick.

"Do you want to go for coffee?" She asked.  
Park froze and sucked in a breath when her hand reached out. As if she were intending to caress his face or trace his ear or even to simply touch his shoulder. Park froze. He remained frozen and it was only when her hand casually retreated to her ear where her fingers tucked in a few loose strands of blond, that the air slowly deflated from his lips. His the tension thawing from his body one muscle at a time.  
He froze because he hadn't been touch with such affection since Eleanor. And if he let a girl touch him the way Eleanor had, he feared she would touch him wrong. Because no one's hands were as gentle or as careful as Eleanor's hands were.  
And he was hers, and she was his.  
To have and to hold. Not forever-maybe not forever, for sure-and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now he was hers and she was his.  
And he wouldn't want it any other way.

"No thanks. I should probably be turning in now." He teetered on his feet, falling back on his heels, and shrugged his shoulders out of habit when his hands shoved themselves into his jean pockets.

"Relax Park, I just meant for catching up. We're old friends. You owe me that much. Plus I'm with Steve anyway. And I love him, he loves me. We love our kids. We're happy. I'm happy." Her every syllable oozed of passion and trickled with emotion. As if her family was her entire world.  
And maybe it was. Maybe happiness did exist. For some people at least.  
Park wouldn't know because life was a bastard.

"So coffee?" She asked when she thrust her hand into the gap between them.

Park allowed the small smile to find its way to his lips. "Sure. Another time." His hand slid out from his pocket and into hers as he spoke.  
Her palm was warm, (warm for the average person. Not warm warm. Not Eleanor warm), and so tiny in his that he had to remind himself to handle the fragile frame of glass that Tina was with caution.

"Glad to hear it." And with that, she shuffled away. Her spiraling curls of milky blond bouncing with her every step. Her hips saying. Her arms swinging.  
And Park was just about to tear himself away when she stopped short in her tracks and hollered back to him. "Park?"

His head quirked in her direction.

"Are you happy?"

The words didn't wash over him. He wished they had. It would have hurt less.  
Instead, they dropped like a stone deep in the very depths of his soul, their weight dragging him down inch by inch into the bottomless pit of black he fell through day by day. Hour by every hour he went without a breath, he was submerged a wave deeper.

"Oh, I'm swell."

He drowned a wave deeper. Fell an inch further. Suffocated a breath more. And was broken apart a piece more.  
Because that is what love did...  
It tore us apart.


	12. Chapter 12: Forgive & Forget

12

Forgive & Forget

She came everyday. She stepped foot in the door, arriving at precisely eleven o'clock. No earlier. No later. She ordered the same beverage; a low-fat, two percent milk gingerbread latte with extra whip. And the same pastry from the given selection; a scone crispy and buttery of its rich, golden flakes on the outside and juicy of the blueberry filling leaking with flavor of a tropical sensation on the inside. She sat at the same table every time she sunk down against the plastic of the chair to slowly nibble at the pastry little by little crumb. And out off all the rows and aisles of shelves stacked and packed with a variety of reading material, there was only one shelf she read from.  
It was Eleanor's favorite shelf. And, apparently, her sister's too.

It was nestled away deep in a distant corner of the store. Drenched and forgotten in the shadows. The novels it cradled were in the roughest of shape. Sprinkled in a fine coat of dust from years of sitting upon the shelves, remaining unopened and untouched. Their pages leathery and wrinkled of age. The words written across the paper to spell out each and every story faded and smudged with age. The jackets of dust they were clad in were torn and ripped at the edges. Their covers bent and broken with neglect under scribble and scrawl of the forgotten titles of classics.  
But it was not by the cover that a book should be judged.

The first time Eleanor had stepped foot into the entrance. In the single blink her eyes, which leaked of a brown so dark they were practically black, fell on the labyrinth of bookshelves. From her inhale to her exhale, her nose caught the thick scent of coffee beans wafting through the air, and she stumbled back on her feet from its overwhelmingly nauseating aroma. The second she discovered that shelf in the one section of the store that was broken of heartbreak. Forgotten with time. Abandoned with neglect. Rejected of poor condition. Bent with mistreatment. Wrinkled of age. Dusty of the years spent on the shelves. And faded of the stories they told, Eleanor had been robbed of the heart she had thought was lost along with Park. It was stolen away by the novels that had made the cut; _Garp, Watership Down, Love Story, Little Women_, and of course, _Jo's Boys._

Eleanor remembered staring at those same titles from across her old bedroom in what now felt like another lifetime. She would lie in her bed with her hands resting on her stomach, rising and falling with her abdomen in the rhythm of her breaths. Her feet would fiddle and fidget relentlessly at the end of the bed, winding the sheets that sat there in a useless heap, as if they had nothing better to sit for, around her ankles. Her neck curved around the end of the mattress, allowing her head to loll loosely over the bed frame, leaving her spirals of red curls to dangle in a curtain. She lay there for countless hours on end. Long after her mind had become numb with the blood that rushed to it. Yet, her eyes would continue to skim the titles over and over and over again. Like there was nothing better they could be reading. And they would reach the end of the shelf only to retrace the words and once again, begin from scratch.  
And it occurred to her that perhaps that was how all stories began; once upon a time as nothing but scratches scrawled across a spare piece of stationary.

Eleanor had loved those books. Every single one. Each story she read she held and locked away like a secret in her heart. Too bright for the light. Too beautiful for the darkness. Too precious to be divulged. Too pure to be genuine. And yet, all too pathetic. Even for someone as broken as Eleanor was.  
Every time she slid a book from its slot on the shelf, or plucked it from its spot on her dresser, or cradled it in her open palms, or pried the cover open one fingertip at a time, her heart would skip a beat. There was once a time when those stories could save her life. Before Richie. Before her parents. Before her siblings chose whom their allegiances lay with. Before they betrayed her. She could scan those words and not escape into the script so much as disappear into it. Walking through life like the phantom she wanted to be. It was all back when there was a chance her life could be saved. Or more accurately; when her life was worth saving, (if there ever was a chance).

She saw her now. No more than a few yards away. Sitting alone. Nibbling at the godforsaken blueberry scone again. _Watership__ Down_ propped up against the gingerbread latte her hand grasped.  
Eleanor watched her eyes scan the page sentence by sentence. And she noticed for the first time in all the years she had known her sister that her lips moved when she read. The words scrawled across the page silently leaking from between her lips, speaking the story under her every breath.  
A twenty-six year gap lay between them, and Eleanor realized with a twist of her gut that if it hadn't been for the unwavering mean look ever present in her eyes, she wouldn't even be able to recognize Maisie anymore.  
Her hair was longer. Darker maybe? A few creases revealed themselves here and there in her skin. Something that wasn't there the last time Eleanor had seen her. It was difficult not to notice the weight that hung heavily on her shoulders like a burden. It was the weight of living.

But the brown in her eyes was still her eyes.  
And even when she approached the counter, staring Eleanor directly in the eye-her glare never surrendering to Eleanor's-Eleanor couldn't help but see the child of no more than eight years she once was.  
Through Eleanor's eyes, she saw the shadows gather around the small figure in the darkness. She lay sprawled on the floor, her body shaking and shuddering with the sobs that crawled through her when she cried inside and out like the rest of them. Her brown locks shielded her tear-stained face and flushed cheeks like a curtain draped over the true colors that painted their lives night and day. Her thumb squeezed its way between her lips, and all through the night she sucked and shook like the baby that still lay within her.

Eleanor scanned her selected copy of _Watership Down_, shoved the novel in a plastic bag and swiped her card before gently placing her purchase on the counter, and sliding it across to her. All without touching hands once. Because Eleanor felt she had long ago lost the right to even make eye contact with any member of the family she had abandoned. But that didn't stop Maisie.  
She could feel the heat of her glare seeping into her skin. And it all became too hot to handle. She could only imagine her eyes pleading and asking of Eleanor; _Why did you leave us Eleanor? Why? Why were we not worth_ _saving?_  
And she could only hope that Maisie would understand that Eleanor, even after all these years apart, couldn't even save herself anymore.

But when she glanced up, Eleanor saw something in Maisie's eyes that she had ever seen before.  
Beyond the resentment that burned. Past the jealousy that still lingered. Through the recognition. Eleanor saw, if her eyes were not mistaken, even the slightest hint of _something._ Forgiveness? No. Most definitely not. Understanding? Maybe... But even that was raising the bar too high when it came to Maisie. But something, even if it would eventually be reduced to nothing, flickered somewhere deep inside her just for Eleanor.

And with only the slightest hint of a smile turning up in the corner of her lips, Maisie took the bag containing her purchase, and disappeared through those doors of glass without looking back once. And Eleanor watched through the window as she sped away with nothing but a cloud of exhaust and tire marks to leave in her wake. All the years worth of words had been spoken in that one glance.  
Up until that very moment had Eleanor not stopped asking herself; _What happened to the others? Did Richie kick them out? Or did mom receive another beating because of my actions? Where are they now? Will I ever see them again? What about Mouse? Ben? Maisie? Why didn't I save them? _But even then, Eleanor knew all too well that she was no hero. She was just as desperate and as damaged as the rest of them.  
But now, only one question plagued her as she stared through the plexiglass and watched the gravel spew from under the tires. It erased her mind blank and sent her palms running cold.

_Am I too late?_


End file.
